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Not to out-fport discretion.

Caf. Iago hath direction what to do:
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye
Will I look to't.

Otk. Iago is most honest.

Michael, good-night. To-morrow, with your earliest, Let me have speech with you. Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to enfue; [To Defd. That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.


[Exeunt Othello and Defdemona.

Enter lago.

Caf. Welcome, Iago. We muft to the Watch. Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o' th' clock. Our General caft us thus early for the love of his Desdemona, whom let us not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and fhe is fport for Jove.

Caf. She's a moft exquifite lady.

Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game.

Caf. Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature. Iago. What an eye fhe has? methinks, it founds a parley to provocation.

Caf. An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right


Tago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?

Caf. She is, indeed, perfection.

Jago. Well, happiness to their fheets. Come, lieutenant, I have a stoop of wine, and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of the black Othello.

8 Our General caft us.] That is, appointed us to our fiations. To caft the play, is, in the ftile of the theatres, to affign to every

actor his proper part.

9 an alarum.] The voice may found an alarm more properly than the eye can found a parler.


Caf. Not to-night, good lago. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking, I could well wish courtesy would invent fome other cuftom of entertain


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; and behold, what innovation it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.

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

Caf. Where are they?

Iago. Here at the door. I pray you, call them in. Caf. I'll do't, but it dislikes me.

[Exit Caffio. Iago. If I can faften 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 miftrefs' dog.

Now, my fick fool, Rodorigo,

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

Potations pottle deep; and he's to watch.

Three lads of Cyprus, noble fwelltch.

fpirits, That hold their honours in a wary diftance, 2 The very elements of this warlike ifle, Have I to-night flufter'd with flowing cups,

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.
3 If confequence do but approve my dream,
My boat fails freely, both with wind and stream.

craftily qualified;] Slily mixed with water.


2 The very elements- -] As quarrelome as the difcordia fe

Bb 2

mina rerum; as quick in oppofition as fire and water.

3 If confequence do but approve my Dream.] All the printed copies

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Enter Caffio, Montano, and Gentlemen.

Caf. 'Fore heav'n, they have given me roufe already.

Mont. Good faith, a little one. Not paft a pint, as I am a foldier.

Iago. Some wine, ho!

[lago fings.

And let me the canakin clink, clink, clink,

And let me the canakin clink.

A foldier's a man; ab, man's life's but a 'Span;
Why, then let a foldier drink.

Some wine, boys.

Caf. Fore heav'n, an excellent fong.

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Tago. I learn'd it in England: where, indeed, they are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German and your fwag-belly'd Hollander, -Drink, ho!

are nothing to your English,

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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; hè gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be fill'd..

Caf. To the health of our General,

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, t i.e. my opinion, the judgment Fhave form'd of what muft hap. pen. So, in Troilus and Creffida;

wicked Deem is this?

THEOBALD. This reading is followed by the fucceeding editions, I rathen read,

If confequence do but approve my scheme.

But why fhould dream be rejected? Every fcheme fubfifting only in the imagination may be termCref. I true? bow now? what- ed a dream.

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


King Stephen was an a worthy peer,
His breeches coft him but a crown ;
He held them fix-pence all too dear...
With that he call'd the tailors 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!

Caf. Why, this is a more exquifite fong than the other.

Iago. 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 must 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 I do 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 fins. Gentlemen, let's look to our bufinefs. 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 ftand well enough, and I speak well enough.

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Gent. Excellent well.

Caf. Why, very well then; you must not think

then that I am drunk.




Manent Iago and Montano.

Mont. To the platform, mafters. Come, let's fet the Watch.

Iago. You fee this fellow, that is gone before? He is a foldier fit to ftand by Cafar,

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

Mont. But is he often thus ?

Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his fleep.
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?

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