Iago. What an eye fhe has ? methinks, it founds a parley to provocation.

Caf. An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right modeft. Iago. And when the fpeaks, is it not an alarum to love?:

Caf. She is, indeed, perfection,

Tago. Well, happinefs to their fheets: come, lieutenant, I have a ftoop of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of the black Othello.

Caf. Not to night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well with, courtefie would invent fome other cuftom of entertainment.

Iago. Oh, they are our friends: but one cup, I'll drink for you.

Caf. 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 talk my weaknefs with

any more.

lago. What, man? 'tis a night of revels, the gallants defire it.

Caf. Where are they?

Jago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.

Caf. I'll do't, but it dislikes me.

Iago. If I can faften but one cup upon him,

[Exit Caffio.

With that which he hath drunk to night already,

He'll be as full of quarrel and offence,

As my young miftrefs' dog.

Now, my fick fool, Rodorigo,

Whom love hath turn'd almoft the wrong fide out,
To Defdemona hath to night carouz'd

Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch.
Three lads of Cyprus, noble fwelling spirits,
(That hold their honours in a wary distance,
The very elements of this warlike isle,)
Have I to night flufter'd with flowing caps,

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

Am I to put our Caffio in fome action

That may offend the ifle. But here they come..co

If confequence do but approve my Deem, (27)
My boat fails freely, both with wind and stream.

Enter Caffio, Montano, and Gentlemen.

Caf. 'Fore heav'n, they have given me a roufe already. M.nt. Good faith, a little one: not past a pint, as! am a foldier,

Iago. Some wine, ho!

And let me the canakin clink, clink,

And let me the canakin clink.

[lago fing

A foldier's a man; oh, man's life's but a fpan;
Why, then let a foldier drink.

Some wine, boys.

Caj. 'Fore heav'n, an excellent fong.

lago. I learn'd it in England: where, indeed, they are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German, and your fwag-belly'd Hallander, -Drink, ho are no

thing to your English.

Caf. Is your Englishman fo exquifite in his drinking? Iago. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk. He fweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be fill'd.

Caf. To the health of our General.

Mont. I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you juftice.
Iago. Oh fweet England.

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

He held them fix pence all too dear,

With that be call'd the tailor lown.

(27) If Confequence do but approve my Dream.] All the printed Copies concur in this Reading, but, I think, it does not come up to the Poet's Intention; I rather imagine that he wrote,

If Confequence do but approve my Deem.

i. e. my Opinion, the Judgment I have form'd of what must happen. So, in Troil. and Creffida;

Cref. I true? how now? what wicked Deem is this?

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.

Some wine, ho!

Caf. Why, this is a more exquifite fong than the other. lago. Will you hear't again?

Caf. No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place, that does thofe things. Well-Heaven's above all; and there be fouls that must be saved, and there be fouls muft not be faved.

Iago. It's true, good lieutenant.

Caf. For mine own part, (no offence to the General, nor any man of quality ;) I hope to be faved. Iago. And fo do I too, lieutenant.

Caf. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me. The Lieutenant is to be faved before the Ancient. Let's have no more of this; let's to our affairs. Forgive our finsgentlemen, 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 I speak well enough.

Gent. Excellent well.

Caf. Why, very well then you must not think then that I am drunk.

Manent lago and Montano.

[Exit.

Mont. To the platform, masters, come, let's fet the Watch.

gone

before;

Tago. You fee this fellow, that is He is a foldier, fit to ftand by Cæfar,

And give direction. And do but fee his vice;
'Tis to his virtues a just equinox,

The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pity of him;
I fear, the Truft Othello puts him in,

On fome odd time of his infirmity,

Will fhake this island.

Mon. But is he often thus?

Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his fleep.
VOL. VII.

D d

He'll

He'll watch the horologue a double fet,
If drink rock not his cradle.
Mont. It were well,

The General were put in mind of it:
Perhaps, he fees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Caffio,

And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

Enter Rodorigo.

Iago. How now, Kodorigo!

I pray you, after the lieutenant, go.

[Exit Rod.

Mont. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard fuch a Place as his own Second,
With one of an ingraft infirmity;

It were an honeft action to fay fo
Unto the Moor.

Iago. Not I, for this fair island;

I do love Caffio well, and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noife?

"

[Within, help! help!

Re-enter Caflio, purfuing Rodorigo.

Caf. You rogue! you rafcal!

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;

I pray you, Sir, hold your hand.

[Staying him.

Caf. Let me go, Sir, or I'll knock you o'er the maz

zard.

Mont. Come, come, you're drunk.

Caf. Drunk?

[They fight.

Iago. Away, I fay, go out and cry a mutiny.

[Exit Rodorigo.

Nay, good lieutenant- -Alas, gentlemen
Help, ho!-Lieutenant-Sir-Montano
Help, mafters !, here's a goodly watch, indeed-

Who's

Who's that, who rings the bell-diablo, ho!

[Bell rings.

The town will rife. Fie, fie, lieutenant! hold:
You will be fham'd for ever.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth. What is the matter here?

Mont. I bleed ftill, I am hurt, but not to th' death.
Oth. Hold, for your lives.

Iago. Hold, ho! lieutenant-
Gentlemen

Sir-Montano

Have you forgot all place of fenfe and duty?
The General speaks to you-hold, hold, for fhame-
Oth. Why, how now, ho? from whence arifeth this?
Are we turn'd Turks? and to our felves do That,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For chriftian fhame, put by this barbarous brawl;
He, that stirs next to carve for his own rage,
Holds his foul light: he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the isle
From her propriety. What is the matter?
Honeft Iago, that looks 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
Divefting them for bed; and then, but now
(As if fome planet had unwitted men,)

Swords out, and tilting one at other's breafts,
In oppofition bloody. I can't fpeak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
And, would, in action glorious I had loft
Those legs that brought me to a part of it!
Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot
Caf. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.
Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil:
The gravity and ftillness of your youth
The world hath noted: And your name is great
In mouths of wifeft cenfure. What's the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus,

Dd 2

And