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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,
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
Her General, that upon certain tidings now ar
At last into a jealousy so strong,
Which thing to do
S CE N E IX.
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,
Caf. Iago hath direction what to do:
Oth. Iago is most honeft :
That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you.
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:
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
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,
S. CE N E X.
already. Mont. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am soldier. lago. Some wine, ho!
Why, then let a soldier drink.
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.
His breeches cost him but a crown;
With that he call'd the tailor lown.
And thou art but of low degree :
Then take thine auld cloak about thee,
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.