Come, Desdemona: 't is the soldiers' life
To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife,
[Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO.
Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Cas. Ay, past all surgery.

Iago. Marry, heaven forbid !

Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago; my reputation!

Iago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound: there is more offence in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover the general again. You are but now cast in his mood; a punishment more in policy than in malice: even so as one would beat his offenceless dog, to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he's

your's.

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk; and speak parrot; and squabble; swagger; swear; and discourse fustian with one's own shadow!-O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!

Iago. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you?

Cas. I know not.

Iago. Is it possible?

Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly: a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.-O that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

Iago. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?

Cas. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the devil wrath: one imperfectness shews me another, to make me frankly despise myself.

Iago. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen: but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

Cas. I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell me I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by-and-by a fool, and presently a beast! O strange!—

Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil.

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used: exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

Cas. I have well approved it, sir.—I drunk!

Iago. You or any man living may be drunk at some time, man. I'll tell you what you shail do. Our general's wife is now the general :—I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces. Confess yourself freely to her; importune her: she'll help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, that she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

Cas. You advise me well.

Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.

Cas. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me. I am desperate of my fortunes,

if they check me here. Iago. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant: I must to the watch.

When this advice is free I give, and honest,
Probal to thinking, and, indeed, the course
To win the Moor again? For 't is most easy
The inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful
As the free elements. And then, for her
To win the Moor,-were 't to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,—
His soul is so enfettered to her love
That she may make, unmake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the god
With his weak function. How am I, then, a villain,
To counsel Cassio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good?-Divinity of hell!
When devils will the blackest sins put on,
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows;
As I do now. For while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,
I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,-
That she repeals him for her body's lust:
And by how much she strives to do him good,

And wit depends on dilatory time.

Does 't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that small hurt hast cashiered Cassio.
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe :
Content thyself awhile.-By the mass, 't is
morning :

Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.--
Retire thee: go where thou art billetted.
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter.
Nay, get thee gone. [Exit RODERIGO.]-TWO
things are to be done :

My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress;
I'll set her on :

Myself, the while, to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump when he may Cassio find
Soliciting his wife.-Ay, that's the way:
Dull not device by coldness and delay. [Exit.

Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been at Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus? 1st Mus. How, sir, how?

Clo. Are these, I pray you, called wind instruments?

1st Mus. Ay, marry are they, sir.
Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail.
1st Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

Clo. Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, masters, here's money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, of all loves, to make no more noise with it.

1st Mus. Well, sir, we will not.

Clo. If you have any music that may not be heard, to 't again: but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.

1st Mus. We have none such, sir. Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go; vanish into air; away. [Exeunt Musicians.

Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend? Clo. No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you.

Cas. Pr'y thee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech. Wilt thou do this?

Clo. She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I shall seem to notify unto her. [Exit.

Enter IAGO.

Cas. Do, good my friend.-In happy time, Iago. Iago. You have not been abed, then? Cas. Why, no: the day had broke Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago,

Emil. Good-morrow, good lieutenant. I am sorry

For your displeasure; but all will soon be well.
The general and his wife are talking of it;
And she speaks for you stoutly. The Moor replies,
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus,
And great affinity; and that, in wholesome
wisdom,

He might not but refuse you: but he protests he loves you,

And needs no other suitor but his likings
To take the saf'st occasion by the front,
To bring you in again.

That policy may either last so long,

Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet,
Or breed itself so out of circumstance,
That, I being absent, and my place supplied,
My general will forget my love and service.

Des. Do not doubt that: before Emilia here,
I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee,
If I do vow a friendship I'll perform it
To the last article. My lord shall never rest;
I'll watch him tame, and talk him out of patience:
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift:
I'll intermingle everything he does
With Cassio's suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio;
For thy solicitor shall rather die

Than give thy cause away.

Enter OTHELLO and IAGO, at a distance.
Madam, here comes

Emil.

And hear me speak.

Cas. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease; Unfit for mine own purposes.

Des. Well, do your discretion. [Exit Cassio. Iago. Ha! I like not that.

Oth. What dost thou say?

Iago. Nothing, my lord: or if-I know not what. Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? Iago. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, I cannot think it, That he would steal away so guilty-like, Seeing you coming.

I

morn:

pray thee, name the time; but let it not Exceed three days. In faith, he's penitent: And yet his trespass, in our common reason (Save that they say the wars must make examples Out of their best), is not almost a fault To incur a private check. When shall he come? Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul What you could ask me that I should deny, Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,

That came a wooing with you; and so many a time,

When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath ta'en your part: to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,--

Oth. Pr'y thee, no more: let him come when he will:

I will deny thee nothing.

Des.

Why, this is not a boon :

"T is as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm; Or sue to you to do peculiar profit

To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poize and difficulty,

And fearful to be granted.

Oth.

I will deny thee nothing: Whereon, I do beseech thee grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself.

Des. Shall I deny you? no. Farewell, my lord. Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona: I will come to thee straight.

Des. Emilia, come. Be it as your fancies

By heaven, he echoes me,

As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shewn.-Thou dost mean something:

I heard thee say but now,-Thou lik'dst not that,
When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like?
And when I told thee he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst,
"Indeed?"

And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me,
Shew me thy thought.

Iago. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth.
I think thou dost :

And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty,
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them

As where's that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not?-who has a breast so pure
But some uncleanly apprehensions

Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit
With meditations lawful?

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, lago, If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his

ear

A stranger to thy thoughts.
I do beseech you,

Iago.
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess
(As I confess it is my nature's plague

To spy into abuses; and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not),-I entreat you then,
From one that so imperfectly conjects,
You'd take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
It were not for your quiet nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,
To let you know my thoughts.

Oth.

What dost thou mean?

Iago. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord,

Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse, steals trash: 'tis some-

thing, nothing;

'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands:

But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand;
Nor shall not, whilst 't is in my custody.
Oth. Ha!

Iago.

O beware, my lord, of jealousy: It is the green-eyed monster which doth make The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss, Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger: But O, what damnéd minutes tells he o'er, Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves! Oth. O misery!

Iago. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough: But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!

Oth. Why! why is this?
Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt,
Is-once to be resolved. Exchange me for a goat,
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufficate and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference.

jealous,

"Tis not to make me

To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company;