Mon. I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice." Iago. O sweet England!

King Stephen7 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.

Some wine, ho!

Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.

Iago. Will you hear it again?

Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place, that does those things. Well, Heaven's above all; and there be souls that must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.

Iago. It's true, good lieutenant.

Cas. For mine own part, - no offence to the general, nor any man of quality, I hope to be saved.

Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant.

Cas. 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 hand:

6

I'll do you justice.] i. e. drink as much as you do.

I am

7 King Stephen, &c.] These stanzas are taken from an old song, which the reader will find recovered and preserved in Percy's Relicks of Ancient Poetry.

8

a worthy peer,] A worthy peer is a worthy lord, a title frequently bestowed upon kings in our old romances.

9

lown.] Sorry fellow, paltry wretch.

not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.

All. Excellent well.

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

[Exit. Mon. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch.

Iago. You see this fellow, that is gone before; He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cæsar,

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.
I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,

On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Mon.

But is he often thus ?

Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: He'll watch the horologe a double set, 1

If drink rock not his cradle.

Mon.

1

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 Cassio,
And looks not on his evils; Is not this true?

Enter RODERIGO.

Iago. How now, Roderigo?

[Aside.

I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Erit RODerigo.
Mon. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place, as his own second,
With one of an ingraft infirmity:2

1 He'll watch the horologe a double set, &c.] If he have no drink, he'll keep awake while the clock strikes two rounds, or four-andtwenty hours.

2——

stitution

ingraft infirmity ;] An infirmity rooted, settled in his con

It were an honest action, to say

So to the Moor.

Iago.

Not I, for this fair island:

1 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.

Cas. You rogue! you rascal!
Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant?
Cas. A knave! - teach me my duty!
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.3
Rod. Beat me!

Iago. Away, I say! go out, and cry — a mutiny.

Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen,
Help, ho! - Lieutenant, — sir,-Montano, sir; —
Help, masters! Here's a goodly watch, indeed!

[Bell rings.

Who's that that rings the bell?- Diablo, ho!
The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant! hold;
You will be sham'd for ever.

Enter OTHELLO, and Attendants.

Oth.

What is the matter here?

3

into a twiggen bottle.] i. e. a wickered bottle.

Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death; - he

dies. 4

Oth. Hold, for your lives.

Iago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano,gentlemen,

Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?

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

shame!

Oth. 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, t
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. -
Silence that dreadful bell, it frights the isle

5

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
These legs, that brought me to a part of it!

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? 7
Cas. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak.
Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
The gravity and stillness of your youth

4 He dies.] i. e. he shall die. But Mr. Malone reads thus:

'Zounds, I bleed still, I am hurt to the death.”

+ carve forth his," &c. MALOne.

5 From her propriety.] From her regular and proper state.

6 In quarter,] i. e. on our station.

7

you are thus forgot?] i. e. you have thus forgot yourself.

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.
Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger;

Your officer, Iago, can inform you—

Of all that I do know: nor know I aught

By me that's said or done amiss this night;
Unless self-charity3 be sometime a vice;
And to defend ourselves it be a sin,

When violence assails us.

Oth.

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.
How this foul rout began,

Give me to know

who set it on ;

And he that is approv'd1 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 domestick quarrel,
In night, and on the court and guard + of safety!
'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began it?

Mon. If partially affin'd2, or leagu'd in office,

8 self-charity-] Care of one's self.

9 And passion, having my best judgment collied,] Othello means, that passion has discoloured his judgment. To colly, anciently sigfified to besmut, to blacken as with coal.

1

he that is approv'd-] He that is convicted by proof, of having been engaged in this offence.

+"court of guard"- MALONE.

If partially affin'd,] Affin'd is bound by proximity of relation ship; but here it means related by nearness of office.