Cassio
You rogue! you rascal!
Montano
What’s the matter, lieutenant?
Cassio
A knave teach me my duty!
I’ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.
Roderigo
Beat me!
Cassio
Dost thou prate, rogue?
Striking Roderigo
Montano
Nay, good lieutenant;
Staying him
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
Cassio
Let me go, sir,
Or I’ll knock you o’er the mazzard.
Montano
Come, come, you’re drunk.
Cassio
Drunk!
They fight
Iago
[Aside to Roderigo] Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.
Exit Roderigo
Nay, good lieutenant,— alas, gentlemen;—
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
Othello
What is the matter here?
Montano
’Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.
Faints
Othello
Hold, for your lives!
Iago
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!
Othello
Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that
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.
Iago
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!
Othello
How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
Cassio
I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak.
Othello
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.
Montano
Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
Your officer, Iago, can inform you,—
While I spare speech, which something now offends me,—
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.
Othello
Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
And passion, having my best judgment 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
How this foul rout 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?
Montano
If partially affined, or leagued in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.
Iago
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:
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamour — 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.
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.
Othello
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.
Desdemona
What’s the matter?
Othello
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
Iago
What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cassio
Ay, past all surgery.
Iago
Marry, heaven forbid!
Cassio
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!
Iago
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 punish
ment 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 yours.
Cassio
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!
Iago
What was he that you followed with your sword?
What had he done to you?
Cassio
I know not.
Iago
Is’t possible?
Cassio
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 beasts!
Iago
Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?
Cassio
It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself.
Iago
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.
Cassio
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.
Iago
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.
Cassio
I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!
Iago
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: 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 before.
Cassio
You advise me well.
Iago
I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.
Cassio
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 cheque me here.
Iago
You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the watch. Cassio: Good night, honest Iago.
Exit
Iago
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,
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
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!
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.
Iago
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.
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;
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
ACT III
SCENE I. BEFORE THE CASTLE.
Enter Cassio and some Musicians
Cassio
Masters, play here; I will content your pains;
Something that’s brief; and bid ‘Good morrow, general.’
Music
Enter Clown
Clown
Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i’ the nose thus?
First Musician
How, sir, how!
Clown
Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments?
First Musician
Ay, marry, are they, sir.
Clown
O, thereby hangs a tail.
First Musician
Whereby hangs a tale, sir?
Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know. But, masters, here’s money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love’s sake, to make no more noise with it.
First Musician
Well, sir, we will not.
Clown
If you have any music that may not be heard, to’t again: but, as they say to hear music the general does not greatly care.
First Musician
We have none such, sir.
Clown
Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I’ll away: go; vanish into air; away!
Exeunt Musicians
Cassio
Dost thou hear, my honest friend?
Clown
No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.
Cassio
Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There’s a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general’s wife be stirring, tell her there’s one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech: wilt thou do this?
Clown
She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I sh
all seem to notify unto her.
Cassio
Do, good my friend.
Exit Clown
Enter Iago
In happy time, Iago.
Iago
You have not been a-bed, then?
Cassio
Why, no; the day had broke
Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,
To send in to your wife: my suit to her
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona
Procure me some access.
Iago
I’ll send her to you presently;
And I’ll devise a mean to draw the Moor
Out of the way, that your converse and business
May be more free.
Cassio
I humbly thank you for’t.
Exit Iago
I never knew
A Florentine more kind and honest.
Enter Emilia
Emilia
Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry
For your displeasure; but all will sure be well.
The general and his wife are talking of it;
And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies,
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,
And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom
He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you
And needs no other suitor but his likings
To take the safest occasion by the front
To bring you in again.
Cassio
Yet, I beseech you,
If you think fit, or that it may be done,
Give me advantage of some brief discourse
With Desdemona alone.
Emilia
Pray you, come in;
I will bestow you where you shall have time
To speak your bosom freely.
Cassio
I am much bound to you.
Exeunt
SCENE II. A ROOM IN THE CASTLE.
Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen
Othello
These letters give, Iago, to the pilot;
And by him do my duties to the senate:
That done, I will be walking on the works;
Repair there to me.
Iago
Well, my good lord, I’ll do’t.
Othello
This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see’t?
Gentleman
We’ll wait upon your lordship.
Exeunt
SCENE III. THE GARDEN OF THE CASTLE.
Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia
Desdemona
Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do
All my abilities in thy behalf.
Emilia
Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband,
As if the case were his.
Desdemona
O, that’s an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio,