Othello, William Shakespeare [best books for students to read .TXT] 📗

that I am drunk. Exit. Montano 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 Caesar
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.

Montano But is he often thus? Iago

’Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
He’ll watch the horologe a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.

Montano

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 Aside to him. How now, Roderigo! I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. Exit Roderigo. Montano

And ’tis great pity that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place as his own second
With one of an ingraft infirmity:
It were an honest action to say
So to the Moor.

Iago

Not I, for this fair island:
I 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. 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