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speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourable minister,

Rod. Well.

lago. Sir, he's rash, and very fudden in choler ; and, happily, may strike at you, Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause those of Cyprus to mutiny: whose qualification shall come into no true taste again, but by transplanting of Casio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires, by the means I shall then have to prefer them : And the impediments most profitably removed, without which there was no expe&ation of our prosperity

Röd. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity

lago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I'must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel. Rod. Adieu.

[Exit. SC EN E VIII.

Manet Iago. lago. HAT Casio loves her, I do well believe :

That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great creThe Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, [dit. Is of a constant, loving, noble nature; And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now I love her too, Not out of absolute luft, though, peradventure, I stand accountant for as great a fin;) But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect, the lufty Moor Hath leapt into my seat. The thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards, And nothing can, or shall, content my soul, 'Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife : Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor

At

Her General, that upon certain tidings now ar

At last into a jealousy so strong,
That judgment cannot cure.

Which thing to do
If this poor brach of Venice, whom I cherish
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on,
l'll have our Michael Casio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb;
(For I fear Caffio with my night-cap too.)
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me,
For making him egregiously an afs;
And practicing upon his peace and quiet,
Even to madness. 'Tis here--but yet confus’d;
Koavery's plain face is never seen, till us’d. (Exit.

S CE N E IX.

The STREET.
Enter Herald with a Proclamation.
T is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant

riv'd, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish il_et, every man put himself into triumph: fome to dance, fome to inake bonfires, each man to what fport and revels his mind leads him. For, besides this beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptials. So much was his pleasure, should be proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting, from this present hour of five, 'till the bell have told eleven. Bless the isle of Cyprus, and our noble General Othello! Enter Othello, Desdemona, Callio, and Attendants.

Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night,
Let's teach ourselves that honourable ftop,
Not to out-Sport discretion.

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

Oth

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Oth. Iago is most honeft :
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 ensue ;

That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
Good night. [Excunt Othello and Desdemona.

Enter Iago.
Caf. Welcome, lago; we must to the Watch.

lago. 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 blaine; he hath not yet made wanion the night with her: and she is sport for Jove.

Caf. She's a 'most exquisite lady:
Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of

game.
Caf. Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature.

lago. What an eye fhe has ? methinks, it sounds a parley to provocation.

Cal. An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right modeft.

Iago. And when she speaks, is it not an alarm to love?

Cas; She is, indeed, perfe&ion..

laga. Well, happiness to their sheets: 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.

Caf. Not to-night, good lago;. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. Icould well wish, couriesy would invent some other custom 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
weakness with any more.

lago.

lide out,

Iago. What, man? 'tis a night of revels, the gallånts desire it.

Caf. Where are they ? lago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. Caf. I'll do't, but it dislikes me. [Exit Caffio.

lago. If I can fasten 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 turn'd almost the wrong
To Desdemona hath to-night carouz'd
Potations poule 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 isle,)
Have I io.night fluster'd with flowing cups,
And they watchi too. Now, 'mongst this flock of

drunkards,
Am I to put our Cafio in some action
That may offend the ille. But here they come.
If consequence do but approve my Deem,
My boat sails freely, boch with wind and stream.

S. CE N E X.
Enter Caffio, Montano, and gentlemen.
ORE heav'n, they liave given me a rouse

already. Mont. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am soldier. lago. Some wine, ho!

(Iago fings.
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.

Caf.

Caf. 'F

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Caf. 'Fore heav'n, an excellent song.

Iago. I learn'd it in England: where, indeed, they are most potent in potting. Your Dane, your German, and your swag-belly'd Hollander -Drink, ho! -are nothing to your English.

Caf. Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking?

lago. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your Hallander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be fill'd.

Caf. To the health of our General.
Mont. I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you juftice.
lago. Oh sweet England.
King Stephen was an a worthy peer,

His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them fix ponce 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!

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

Iago. Will you hear't again ?

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

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 saved.

Iago. 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

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