Imágenes de páginas

am drunk.

not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and I speak well enough,

Gent. Excellent well.
Caf. Why very well then: you must not think then that I

(Exit. SCE N E XI.

Manent Jago and Montano.
Mont. To the platform, masters, come, let's see the watch.

Jago. You see this fellow that is gone before,
He is a soldier, fit to stand by Cafar,
And give direction. And do bat see his vice,
'Tis to his virtues a just equinox,
The one as long as th’ other. 'Tis pity of him;
I fear the trust Othello puts him in,
On some odd time of his infirmity,
Will shake this island.

Mon. But is he often thus ?

Jago. '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:
Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature
Prizes the virtue that appears in Casio,
And looks not on his evils: is not this true?

Enter Rodorigo.
Jago. How now, Rodorigo !
I 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 ingrafc infirmity;


It were an honest action to say so
Unto the Moor,

Jago. Not I, for this fair island;
I do love Callio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil. Hark, what noise:

Re-enter Callio pursuing Rodorigo.
Caf. You rogue! you rascal !
Mon. What's the matter, lieutenant ?

Cas. A knave teach me my duty ? I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.

Rod. Beat me-----
Caf. Dost thou prate, rogue ?
Mon. Nay, good lieutenant ?

Staying bim.
I pray you, Sir, hold


Caf. Let me go, Sir, or I'll 5 knock you o'er the mazzard.
Mon. Come, come, you're drunk.
Caf. Drunk?

(They fight.
Jago. Away I say, go out and cry a mutiny. [Exit Rodorigo.
Nay, good lieutenant Alas, gentlemen
Help ho!----Lieutenant -Sir, Montano
Help masters! here's a goodly watch indeed
Who's that who rings the bell ---- diablo, ho! [Bell rings.
The town will rise. Fie, fie, lieutenant!
You will be sham'd for ever.


Enter Othello, and Attendants.

[ocr errors]

Oth. What is the matter here?
Mont. I bleed still, I am hurt, but not to th' death.
Oth. Hold for your lives.
Jago. Hold ho! lieutenant ---Sir -- Montano -- Gentlemen --
Ttt 2

I know.

Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?
The General speaks to you ---- hold, hold, for shame-

Oth. Why how now ho? .from whence ariseth this ?
Are we turn’d Turks? and to our selves 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?
Honest Jago, that looks dead with grieving,
Speak: who began this? on thy love I charge thee.

Jago. I do not know; friends all, but now, even now
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Divesting them for bed; and then, but now ----
As if some planet had unwitted men,
Sword out, and tilting one at other's breasts,
In opposition bloody. I can't 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!

Oth. How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot?
Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speak.

Oth. 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. What's the matter,

your reputation thus,
And spend your rich opinion, for the name
Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

Mont. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger ;
Your officer, Jago, can inform you,
While I spare fpeech, which something now offends me,


Of all that I do know, nor know I ought
By me that's said or done amiss this night,
Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice,
And to defend our selves it be a fin,
When violence assails us.

Oth. Now, by heav'n,
My blood begins my lafer guides to rule,
And passion, having my best judgment cholerod,
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 approv'd in his offence,
Tho' he had twion'd with me both at a birth,
Shall lose me. What, in a town of war,
Yet wild, the peoples hearts brim-full of fear,
To manage private and domestick quarrel ?
In night, and on the court and guard-of safety?
'Tis monstrous. Say Jago, who began't?

Mont. If partially affin’d, or leagu’d in office,
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth,
Thou art no soldier.

Jago. Touch me not so near:
I'd rather have this tongue cut from my mouth,
Than it should do offence to Michael Casio.
Yet I perswade my self, to speak the truth
Shall nothing wrong him. Thus ’ris, General:
Montano and my self being in speech,
There comes a fellow crying out for help,
And Casio following with determin’d sword,
To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman
Steps in to Casio, and intreats his pause;
My self the crying fellow did pursue;


Lest by his clamour (as it fo fill out)
The town might fall in fright. He, swift of foot,
Out-ran my purpose: I returnd the rather
For that I heard the clink and fåll of swords,
And Casio high in oath ; which 'till to-night
I ne'er might say before. When I came back,
(For this was brief) I found them close together
At blow and thrast, even as again they were
When you your self did

self did part them.
More of this matter cannot I report:
But men are men; the best sometimes forget;

Tho Callio did some little wrong to him,
As men in rage strike those that wish them best,
Yet surely Cassio, I believe, receiv'd
From him that fled some strange indignity,
Which patience could not pass.

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

Enter Desdemona attended.
Look if my gentle love be not ráis’d up:
I'll make thee an example.

Des. What's the matter?

Oth. All is well, sweeting; come, away to bed.
Sir, for your hurts, my felf will be your surgeon.
Lead him off:
Jago, look with care about the town,
And silence those whom this vile Brawi distracted.
Come, Desdemona, 'tis the soldier's life,
To have their balmy Plumbers wak'd with Atrife.



« AnteriorContinuar »