King Stephen was a worthy peer,s 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 : Some wine, ho! Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. Iago. Will you hear it again? Cas. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place, that does those things.-Well, heaven's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. Iago. It is 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 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. 5 King Stephen was a worthy peer,] The ballad from which these two stanzas are quoted is to be found entire in Percy's Reliques, vol. i, p. 174; edit. 1765. Cas. Why, very well, then you must not think, then, that I am drunk. [Exit, reeling. Mon. To the platform, masters: come, let's set the watch. Iago. You see this fellow, that is gone before: He is a soldier fit to stand by Cæsar And give direction; and do but see his vice : 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, The one as long as th' other: 'tis pity of him. I fear the trust Othello puts in him, On some odd time of his infirmity, Will shake this island. Mon. But is he often thus ? Iago. 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep : He'll watch the horologe a double set, If drink rock not his cradle. Mon. It were well The general were put in mind of it. Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature And looks not on his evils. Is not this true? Enter RODERIGO. Iago. How now, Roderigo? I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. [Aside to him. [Exit ROD. Mon. 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 to the Moor. Iago. Not I, for this fair island: I do love Cassio well, and would do much To cure him of this evil.-But hark! what noise? [Cry within,-Help! Help! Re-enter CASSIO, drunk, driving in RODERIGO. Cas. You rogue! you rascal! What's the matter, lieutenant ? Cas. A knave!-teach me my duty? I'll beat the knave into a wicker bottle. Iago. Away, I say! [Aside to ROD.] go out, and cry— a mutiny! [Exit ROD. Nay, good lieutenant,-alas, gentlemen!— [Alarum-bell rings. Who's that that rings the bell ?-Diablo, ho! Oth. Enter OTHELLO, and Attendants. What is the matter here? Mon. Zounds! I bleed still: I am hurt to the death. Oth. Hold, for your lives! [He is supported. Iago. Hold, hold, lieutenant!-sir, Montano,-gentle men! Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? Hold, hold! the general speaks to you: hold, for shame! [Bell stops. Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. Iago. I do not know :-friends all but now, even now Oth. How came it, Michael, you were thus forgot? The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure: what'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. Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger : Your officer, Iago, can inform you, (While I spare speech which something now offends me), Of all that I do know; nor know I aught By me that's said or done amiss this night, And to defend ourselves it be a sin, When violence assails us. Oth. Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule; 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 approv'd in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, In night, and on the court of guard and safety! Mon. If partially affin'd, or leagu'd 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, Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth |