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lago. Well, happiness to their sheets: come, Lierse tenant, I have a stoup 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 lago; I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish, courtesy would invent fome other cultoin of entertainment.

lago. 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 weaknels with any

more.

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

Caf. Where are they? lage. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in Caf. I'll dot; but it dislikes me.

[Exit Caflio. Fago. If I can faiten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to-night already, He'll be as full of quarrel and offence, As my young mistress' dog. Now, my fick fool, Rodorigo, Whom love hath turned almost the wrong To Desdemona hath te-night carouzed Potarions pottle deep; and he's to watch. Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling fpirits, (That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very

elements of this warlike ifle,) Have I to-night flustered with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of Am I to put our Cassio in fonie action (drunkards, That may offend the ille. But here they come. ?

fide outy

Ti consequence do but approve my deem, (37) Mly boat fails freely, both with wind and Itream.

Enier CASSIO, MONTANO, and Gentlemen. Caf. 'Fore Heaven, they have given me a rouse already.

Olont. Good faith, a little one : not pait a pint,. as I am a foldier. lagi. Some wine, ho!

[Iago kings. « And let me the canakin clink, clink, « And let me the canakin clink. “ A soldier’s a man; oh, man's life's but a span;

Why, then let a soldier drink.” Some wine, boys.

Cal. 'Fore Heaven, an excellent fong.

Iago. I learned it in England: where, indeed, they are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German, and your fwag-belired Hollander, Drink, ho! --are nothing to your English.

Caf. Is your Englishman to exqufice in his drinking?

Tags. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled.

Caf. To the healih of our General.

piont, I am for it, Lieutenant, and I'll do you. justice.

(27) If comfrquence dc hut approve my dream, 1 All the printed copies, con ur in this reading, but, I think, it does not come up to the Poet's intention; I rather in:agine that he wrote,

If consequence do but approve my,deem ; j. e. my opinion,

the judgment i have formed of what muft: trappen. So in Trorluis avid Croisiaa ;

ErefI true! how.gow! what wicked deem is this?

Iago. Oh sweet England.
« King Stephen was an a worthy peer,

" His breeches cost him but a crown;
“ He held them fixpence 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 !

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

lago. Will you hear't again?

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

lago. 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.

laga. And so do I too, Lieutenant. Caf. 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

-----Gentlemen, let's look to our busi, nefs. 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.

[Edit.

our fins

Manent IAGO and MONTANO.
Mont. To the platform, masters; come, let's set

the Watch.
lago. You see this fellow that is gone before;
He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæfar,
And give direction. And do but see his vice;
T'is to his virtues a just equinox,
The one as long as the other. 'Tis pily of him;
I fear, the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Mont. But is he often thus?

lago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep,
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 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 R ODORIGO.
Iago. How now, Rodorigo!
I pray you, after the Lieutenant, go. [Exit Rod.

Mont. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moos Should hazard 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 Calliv well, and would do much To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise?

[Within, Help! help! Re-enter CASSIO, pursuing RODORIGO. Caf. You rogue ! you rascal !

Mont. What's the matter, Lieutenant ?

Caf. A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the krave into a twiggen bottle.

Rod. Beat me
Gal. Doit thou prate, rogue ?

Mont. Nay, good Lieutenant; (Staying him.
I pray you, Sir, hold

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

Mont. Come, come, you're drunk.
Caf. Drunk!-----

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

[Exit Rodorigo. May, good Lieutenant-Alas, gentlemen----Help, ho !---Lieutenant-----Sir ----Montano----Help, masters ! here's a goodly watch, indeed----Who's that who rings the bell-------diablo, ho!

[Bell rings The town will rise. Fy, fy, Lieutenant! hold: You will be shamed for ever.

Enter'O THELLO, 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-

gentlemen
Have you forgot all fense of place and duty ?
The General speaks to you-hold, hold, for shame-
Oth. Why, how now, ho! froin whence ariseth

this?
Are we turned Turks and to ourselves do that
Which Heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian Thame, put by this barbarous brawl;
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage,

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