Othello

stand the putting on,
I’ll have our Michael Cassio on the hip,
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb⁠—
For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too⁠—
Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me.
For making him egregiously an ass
And practising upon his peace and quiet
Even to madness. ’Tis here, but yet confused:
Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used. Exit.

Scene II

A street.

Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People following.

Herald

It is Othello’s pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptial. 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. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! Exeunt.

Scene III

A hall in the castle.

	Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants.
Othello	Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: Let’s teach ourselves that honourable stop, Not to outsport discretion.
Cassio	Iago hath direction what to do; But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye Will I look to’t.
Othello	Iago is most honest. Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest Let me have speech with you. To Desdemona. Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you. Good night. Exeunt Othello, Desdemona, and Attendants.
	Enter Iago.
Cassio	Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch.
Iago	Not this hour, lieutenant; ’tis not yet ten o’ the clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove.
Cassio	She’s a most exquisite lady.
Iago	And, I’ll warrant her, full of game.
Cassio	Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate creature.
Iago	What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of provocation.
Cassio	An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest.
Iago	And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love?
Cassio	She is indeed perfection.
Iago	Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.
Cassio	Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
Iago	O, they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you.
Cassio	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 task my weakness with any more.
Iago	What, man! ’tis a night of revels: the gallants desire it.
Cassio	Where are they?
Iago	Here at the door; I pray you, call them in.
Cassio	I’ll do’t; but it dislikes me. Exit.
Iago	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 sick fool Roderigo, Whom love hath turn’d almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Potations pottle-deep; and he’s to watch: Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, That hold their honours in a wary distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I to-night fluster’d with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now, ’mongst this flock of drunkards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle.⁠—But here they come: If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
	Re-enter Cassio; with him Montano and Gentlemen; servants following with wine.
Cassio	’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already.
Montano	Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier.
Iago	Some wine, ho! Sings. And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink A soldier’s a man; A life’s but a span; Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys!
Cassio	’Fore God, an excellent song.
Iago	I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander⁠—Drink, ho!⁠—are nothing to your English.
Cassio	Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?
Iago	Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled.
Cassio	To the health of our general!
Montano	I am for it, lieutenant; and I’ll do you justice.
Iago	O sweet England! King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence 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!
Cassio	Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other.
Iago	Will you hear’t again?
Cassio	No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does those things. Well, God’s above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
Iago	It’s true, good lieutenant.
Cassio	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.
Cassio	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 us our sins!⁠—Gentlemen, let’s look to our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am drunk: this is my ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left: I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough.
All	Excellent well.
Cassio	Why, very well then; you must not think then