Page:Shakespeare - First Folio Faithfully Reproduced, Methuen, 1910.djvu/836

320 The one as long as th'other. 'Tis pittie of him: I feare the trust Othello puts him in, On some odde time of his infirmitie Will shake this Island.

Mont. But is he often thus?

Iago. 'Tis euermore his prologue to his sleepe, He'le watch the Horologe a double Set, If Drinke rocke not his Cradle.

Mont. It were well The Generall were put in mind of it: Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature Prizes the vertue that appeares in Cassio, And lookes not on his euills: is not this true?

Iago. How now Rodorigo? I pray you after the Lieutenant, go.

Mon. And 'tis great pitty, that the Noble Moore Should hazard such a Place, as his owne Second With one of an ingraft Infirmitie, It were an honest Action, to say so To the Moore.

Iago. Not I, for this faire Island, I do loue Cassio well: and would do much To cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise?

Cas. You Rogue: you Rascall.

Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant?

Cas. A Knaue teach me my dutie? Ile beate the Knaue in to a Twiggen-Bottle.

Rod. Beate me?

Cas. Dost thou prate, Rogue?

Mon. Nay, good Lieutenant: I pray you Sir, hold your hand.

Cassio. Let me go (Sir) Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard.

Mon. Come, come: you're drunke.

Cassio. Drunke?

Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie. Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen: Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano: Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed. Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa: The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant, You'le be asham'd for euer.

Othe. What is the matter heere?

Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to th'death. He dies.

Othe. Hold for your liues.

Iag. Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen: Haue you forgot all place of sense and dutie? Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold for shame.

Oth. Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this? Are we turn'd Turkes? and to our selues do that Which Heauen hath forbid the Ottamittes. For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle: He that stirs next, to carue for his owne rage, Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his Motion. Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle, From her propriety. What is the matter, Masters? Honest Iago, that lookes dead with greeuing, Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee?

Iago. I do not know: Friends all, but now, euen now. In Quarter, and in termes like Bride, and Groome Deuesting them for Bed: and then, but now: (As if some Planet had vnwitted men) Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes, In opposition bloody. I cannot speake Any begining to this peeuish oddes. And would, in Action glorious, I had lost Those legges, that brought me to a part of it.

Othe. How comes it (Michaell) you are thus forgot?

Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speake.

Othe. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be ciuill: The grauitie, and stillnesse of your youth The world hath noted. And your name is great In mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matter That you vnlace your reputation thus, And spend your rich opinion, for the name Of a night-brawler? Giue me answer to it.

Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger, Your Officer Iago, can informe you, While I spare speech which something now offends me. Of all that I do know, nor know I ought By me, that's said, or done amisse this night, Vnlesse selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice, And to defend our selues, it be a sinne When violence assailes vs.

Othe. Now by Heauen, My blood begins my safer Guides to rule, And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied) Assaies to leade the way. If I once stir, Or do but lift this Arme, the best of you Shall sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to know How this foule Rout began: Who set it on. And he that is approu'd in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall loose me. What in a Towne of warre, Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare, To Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell? In night, and on the Court and Guard of safetie? 'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't?

Mon. If partially Affin'd, or league in office, Thou dost deliuer more, or lesse then Truth, Thou art no Souldier.

Iago. Touch me not so neere, I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth, Then it should do offence to Michaell Cassio. Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the truth Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall: Montano and my selfe being in speech, There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe, And Cassio following him with determin'd Sword To execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman, Steppes in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: My selfe, the crying Fellow did pursue, Least by his clamour (as it so fell out) The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote) Out-ran my purpose: and I return'd then rather For that I heard the clinke, and fall of Swords, And Cassio high in oath: Which till to night I nere might say before. When I came backe (For this was briefe) I found them close together At blow, and thrust, euen as againe they were When you your selfe 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 beleeue receiu'd From him that fled, some strange Indignitie, Which patience could not passe.