With that which he hath drunk to-night already, Now, my sick fool, Rodorigo, Whom love hath turned almost the wrong side out, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle. But here they come. Enter CASSIO, MONTANO, and Gentleman. Cas. 'Fore Heaven, they have given me a rouse already. Mont. Good faith, a little one: not past a pint, as I am a soldier. Iago. Some wine, ho! [Lago sings. 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. Cas. 'Fore Heaven, 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. Cas. Is your Englishman so exquisite in his drinking? Iago. Why, he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk. He sweats not to overthrow your Almain. He gives your He gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next bottle canbe filled. Cas. To the health of our general. Mont. I am for it, lieutenant, and I'll do you justice. Iago. Oh 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. (46) He was a wight of high renown, 'Tis pride that pulls the country down, Some wine ho! (46) Tailor lown. This may put the reader in mind of Hudibras's Ralph, who is the same as lago, and is often likened to a tailor. High and low in the same song may relate to the librations of the moon. Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. Iago. Will your hear't again? Cas. No, for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that does these things. Well-Heaven's above all; and there be souls that must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. Iugo. It's true, good lieutenant. Cas. 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. Cas. 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 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 I speak well enough. (47) Gent. Excellent well. Cas. Why, very well then: you must not think then that I am drunk. Manent IAGO and MONTANO. [Exit. Mont. To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. (47) Cassio's legs, in his prototype, are straddling out one from the other, like those of a drunken man. Iago. You see this fellow that is He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæsar, And give direction. gone before; And do but see his vice; 'Tis to his virtues a just equinox, The one as long as the other. 'Tis pity of him; I fear, the trust Othello puts him in, On some odd time of his infirmity, Mont. But is he often thus ? Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep, He'll watch the horologue a double set, If drink rock not his cradle. Mont. It were well The general were put in mind of it: And looks not on his evils: is not this true? I Iago. How now, Rodorigo? pray you, after the lieutenant, go. [Exit. Rod. Mont. And '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 Iago. Not I, for this fair island; I do love Cassio well, and would do much Hark, what noise? [Within, Help! help! Re-enter CASSIO, pursuing RODORIGO. Mont. What's the matter, lieutenant? Cas. A knave teach me my duty! I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. (48) Rod. Beat me Cas. Dost thou prate, rogue? Mont. Nay, good lieutenant; I pray you, sir, hold your hand. [Staying him. Cas. Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. (49) Mont. Come, come, you're drunk. Cas. Drunk?- [They fight. Iago. Away, I say, go out and cry a mutiny. Nay, good lieutenant--Alas, gentlemen- [Bell rings. The town will rise. Fie, fie, lieutenant! hold: You will be ashamed for ever. (48) A twiggen bottle. Observe the person of Rodorigo in the moon, as covered with streaks of light resembling twigs. (49) Knock you o'er the mazzard. Vide the streak of light, or mark as of a blow on or near Montano's mouth, in fig. 101, and more particularly in its prototype. |