Mont. And 'tis great pity, that the noble Moor Should hazard fuch a place as his own Second, With one of an 7 ingraft infirmity:

It were an honeft action to say so
Unto the Moor.

Iago. Not I, for this fair island.

I do love Caffio well, and would do much

To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noife?

[Within, help! help!

Re-enter Caffio, pursuing Rodorigo.

Caf. You rogue! you rascal!

Mont. What's the matter, lieutenant ?

Caf. A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the

knave into a twiggen bottle.

I

Rod. Beat me

Caf. Doft thou prate, rogue ?

Mont. Nay, good lieutenant;

pray you, Sir, hold your hand.

Caf. Let me go, Sir, or I'll knock mazzard.

Mont. Come, come, you're drunk.

Caf. Drunk?

[Staying him.

you o'er the

[They fight.

Iago. Away, I fay, go out and cry a mutiny.
[Exit Rodorigo.

Nay, 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 rife. Fy, fy, Lientenant! hold. You will be fham'd for ever.

7-ingraft infirmity:] An infirmity rooted, fettled in his confti

tution.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Oth. What is the matter here?

Mont. I bleed till: I am hurt to the death.
Oth. Hold, for your lives.

Iago. Hold, ho! lieutenant-Sir-Montano
Gentlemen-

Have you forgot all fenfe of place and duty?
The General speaks to you. Hold, hold, for fhame---
Oth. Why, how now, ho? From whence arifeth
this?

Are we turn'd Turks? and to ourselves do that,
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?

For chriftian fhame, put by this barbarous brawl;
He, that ftirs next to carve for his own rage,
Holds his foul light: he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the ifle
From her propriety. What is the matter?
Honeft Iago, that looks 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
Divetting them for bed; and then, but now
As if fome planet had unwitted men,
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breaft,
In oppofition bloody. I can't fpeak
Any beginning to this peevish odds,
And, 'would, in action glorious I had loft
Thofe legs that brought me to a part of it!

8 So Hanmer. The ref,
all place of fenfe and du'y.
9-it fright's the ifle
From her propriety.-] From

her regular and proper fate.
1 In quarter.] In their
quarters; at their lodging.

Oth.

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? Caf. I pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak. Oth. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil, The gravity and ftillness of your youth The world hath noted; and your name is great In mouths of wifeft cenfure. What's the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus,

2

And fpend 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,

While Ifpare fpeech, which fomething now offends me,
Of all that I do know; nor know I aught
By me that's faid or done amifs this night,
Unless + felf-charity be fometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a fin,
When violence affails us.

Oth. Now, by heaven,

My blood begins my fafer guides to rule;
And paffion, having my beft judgment choler'd,
Affays to lead the way. If I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall fink in my rebuke.. Give me to know
How this foul rout began; who fet it on ;
And he, that is approv'd in this offence,
Tho' he had twinn'd with me both at a birth,
Shall lofe me.-What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the people's hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domeftick quarrel
In night, and on the Court of Guard and Safety?

'Tis monftrous. Say, Iago, who began't?
Mon. If partially affin'd, or leagu'd in office,
Thou doft deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no foldier.

Iago. Touch me not fo near:

I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Caffio:
Yet I perfuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus 'tis, General:
Montano and myself being in fpeech,

There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Caffio following with determin'd fword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Caffio, and intreats his paufe;
Myfelf the crying fellow did pursue,
Left by his clamour (as it fo fell out)

The town might fall in fright. He, fwift of foot,
Out-ran my purpose. I return'd, the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Caffio high in oath; which 'till to-night
I ne'er might fay before. When I came back,
For this was brief, I found them clofe together
At blow and thruft; even as again they were,
When you yourfelf did part them.

More of this matter cannot I report.

But men are men; the best fometimes forget;
Tho' Caffio did fome little wrong to him,

As men in rage ftrike thofe that wish them best,
Yet, furely, Caffio, I believe, receiv'd

From him, that fled, fome strange indignity,
Which patience could not pafs.

Oth. I know, Iago,

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter,
Making it light to Caffio. Caffio, I love thee,
But never more be officer of mine.

Enter

Enter Desdemona attended.

Look, if my gentle love be not rais'd up.

I'll make thee an example.

Def. What's the matter?

Oth. All is well. Here, Sweeting, come away to bed. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your furgeon.

Lead him off.

Iago, look with care about the town,

[To Montano.

And filence thofe whom this vile brawl distracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the foldiers' life,

To have their balmy flumbers wak'd with ftrife.

SCENE

XIV.

[Exeunt.

Manent Iago and Caffio.

Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ?

Caf. Paft all Surgery.

Iago. Marry, heav'n forbid !

Caf. Reputation, reputation, reputation! oh, I have loft my reputation! I have loft the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation! Tago, my reputation

Iago. As I am an honeft man, I had thought, you had receiv'd fome bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle, and moft falfe impofition; oft got without merit, and loft without deferving. You have loft no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself fuch a lofer. What, man? There are ways to recover the General again. You are but now caft in his mood, a punishment more in

caft in his mood,] Ejected in his anger.

policy