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that I am drunk. Exit. Montano To the platform, masters; come, letā€™s set the watch. Iago

You see this fellow that is gone before;
He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar
And give direction: and do but see his vice;
ā€™Tis to his virtue a just equinox,
The one as long as the other: ā€™tis pity of him.
I fear the trust Othello puts him in.
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Montano But is he often thus? Iago

ā€™Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep:
Heā€™ll watch the horologe a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.

Montano

It were well
The general were put in mind of it.
Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio,
And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

Enter Roderigo. Iago Aside to him. How now, Roderigo! I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. Exit Roderigo. Montano

And ā€™tis great pity that the noble Moor
Should hazard such a place as his own second
With one of an ingraft infirmity:
It were an honest action to say
So to the Moor.

Iago

Not I, for this fair island:
I do love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evilā ā€”But, hark! what noise? Cry within: ā€œHelp! help!ā€

Re-enter Cassio, driving in Roderigo. Cassio You rogue! you rascal! Montano Whatā€™s the matter, lieutenant? Cassio

A knave teach me my duty!
Iā€™ll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

Roderigo Beat me! Cassio Dost thou prate, rogue? Striking Roderigo. Montano

Nay, good lieutenant; Staying him.
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.

Cassio

Let me go, sir,
Or Iā€™ll knock you oā€™er the mazzard.

Montano Come, come, youā€™re drunk. Cassio Drunk! They fight. Iago

Aside to Roderigo. Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny. Exit Roderigo.
Nay, good lieutenantā ā€”alas, gentlemen;ā ā€”
Help, ho!ā ā€”Lieutenantā ā€”sirā ā€”Montanoā ā€”sir;
Help, masters!ā ā€”Hereā€™s a goodly watch indeed! Bell rings.
Whoā€™s that which rings the bell?ā ā€”Diablo, ho!
The town will rise: Godā€™s will, lieutenant, hold!
You will be shamed for ever.

Re-enter Othello and Attendants. Othello What is the matter here? Montano ā€™Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. Faints. Othello Hold, for your lives! Iago

Hold, ho! Lieutenantā ā€”sirā ā€”Montanoā ā€”gentlemenā ā€”
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!

Othello

Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turnā€™d Turks, and to ourselves do that
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?
For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle
From her propriety. What is the matter, masters?
Honest Iago, that lookā€™st 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
Devesting them for bed; and then, but nowā ā€”
As if some planet had unwitted menā ā€”
Swords out, and tilting one at otherā€™s breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds;
And would in action glorious I had lost
Those legs that brought me to a part of it!

Othello How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? Cassio I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. Othello

Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil;
The gravity and stillness of your youth
The world hath noted, and your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure: whatā€™s the matter,
That you unlace your reputation thus
And spend your rich opinion for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

Montano

Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger:
Your officer, Iago, can inform youā ā€”
While I spare speech, which something now
offends meā ā€”
Of all that I do know: nor know I aught
By me thatā€™s said or done amiss this night;
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend ourselves it be a sin
When violence assails us.

Othello

Now, by heaven,
My blood begins my safer guides to rule;
And passion, having my best judgment collied,
Assays to lead the way: if I once stir,
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know
How this foul rout began, who set it on;
And he that is approved in this offence,
Though he had twinnā€™d with me, both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What! in a town of war,
Yet wild, the peopleā€™s hearts brimful of fear,
To manage private and domestic quarrel,
In night, and on the court and guard of safety!
ā€™Tis monstrous. Iago, who beganā€™t?

Montano

If partially affined, or leagued in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.

Iago

Touch me not so near:
I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth
Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio;
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general.
Montano and myself being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help:
And Cassio following him with determined sword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:
Myself the crying fellow did pursue,
Lest by his clamourā ā€”as it so fell outā ā€”
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot,
Outran my purpose; and I returnā€™d the rather
For that I heard the clink and fall of swords,
And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night
I neā€™er might say before. When I came backā ā€”
For this was briefā ā€”I found them close together,
At blow and thrust; even as again they were
When you yourself did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report:
But men are men; the best sometimes forget:
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received
From him that fled some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.

Othello

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

Re-enter Desdemona, attended.

Look, if my gentle love be not raised up!
Iā€™ll make thee an example.

Desdemona Whatā€™s the matter? Othello

Allā€™s well now, sweeting; come away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon:
Lead him off. To

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