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Manent Jago and Cassio.
Jago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
Caf. Past all surgery.
Jago. Marry, heav'n forbid.

Caf. Reputation, reputation, reputation! oh I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of my self, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Jago, my reputation

Jago. As I am an honest man, I had thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more i sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute your self such a loser. What man ----there are ways to recover the General again. You are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion. Sue to him again, and he's yours.

Caf. I will rather fue to be despis’d, than to deceive so good a commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an offi

Drunk ? and speak, parrot? and squabble: swagger ? swear ? and discourse fultian with ones own shadow ? oh thou invisible {pirit of wine! if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.

Jago. What was he that you follow'd with your sword? what had he done to you?

Caf. I know not.
Jago. Is't possible?

Cal. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distincttly: a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains! that we should with joy, pleasance, revel and applause, transform gur selve; into beasts.

Jago. i offence ed. prim.


Jago. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recover'd?

Caf. It hath pleas’d the devil, drunkenness, to give place to the devil, wrath; one unperfectness shews me another, to make me frankly despise my self. Jago. Come, you are too severe a moraler.

As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befalo: but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.

Caf. I will ask him for my place again ; he shall tell me, I am a drunkard? had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast. Every inordinate cup is unbless’d, and the ingredient is a devil.

Jago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well us’d: exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you.

Caf. I have well approvd it, Sir. I drunk!
Jago. You, or any man living, may be drunk at some time,

I tell you what you shall do: our General's wife is now the General. I may say fo, in this respect, for that he ha devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and devotement of her


her: importune her help, to put you in your place again. She
is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, the holds
it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested.
This broken joint between you and her husband, intreat ber to
splinter. And my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this
crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before.

Caf. You advise me well.
Jago. I protest in the sincerity of love, and honest kindness.

Caf. I think it freely: and betimes in the morning I will befeech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am de



graces. Confess

self freely to

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sperate of my fortunes, if they check me.

Jago. You are in the right: good night, lieutenant, I must to the watch. Caf. Good night, honest Jago.

[Exit Caffio. S CE N E XIV.

Manet Jago.
Jago. And what's he then, that says I play the villain ?
When this advice is free I give, and honest,
Likely to thinking, and indeed the course
To win the Moor again. For 'tis most easie
Th’inclining Desdemona to subdue
In any honest suit: she's fram'd as fruitful
As the free elements. And then for her
To win the Moor, were’t to renounce his baptism,
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin,
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love
That she may make, uomake, do what she list,
Even as her appetite shall play the God
With his weak function. Am I then a villain,
To counsel Casio to this parallel course,
Directly to his good? 'Tis hell's divinity:
When devils will their blackest fios put on,
They do suggest at firßt with heav'nly shews,
As I do now. For while this honest fool
Plies Desdemona to repair bis fortune,
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor ;

pour this pestilence into his ear,
That she repeals him for her body's lust:
And by how much she strives to do him good,
She shall undo her credit with the Moor.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
V ol. VI.
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And out of her own goodness make the net
That shall 7 enmesh them all. How now, Rod'rigo!


Enter Rodorigo.
Rod. I follow here in the chace, not like a hound that
hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My mony is almost spent ;
I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and I think the
issue will be, I shall have so much experience for my pains; and
so with no mony at all, and a little more wit, return again to

Jago. How poor are they that have not patience ?
What wound did ever heal bat by degrees ?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time:
Does't not go well : Callio hath beaten thee,
And thou by that small hurt halt cashier'd Casio,
Tho' other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first, will first be ripe;
Content thy self a while. In troth 'tis morning;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billetted:
Away, I say, thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get

[Exit Rodorigo.
Two things are to be done;
My wife must move for Caffio to her mistress:
I'll set her on to draw the Moor apart,
And bring him jump, when he may Casio find
Solliciting his wife: ay, that's the way:
Dull not device, by coldness and delay.


thee gone,


t en-mesh, a metaphor from taking birds in meshes.




Othello's Palace.

Enter Caffio, Musicians, and Clown.

ASTERS, play here, I will content your pains,

Something that's brief; and bid good-morrow,

Clown. Why, masters, have your instruments
been in Naples, that they fpeak i'th' nose thus ?

Muf. How, Şir, how?
Clown. Are these, I pray you, wind instruments ?
Muf. Ay, marry are they, Sir.
Clown. Oh, thereby hangs a tale.
Muf. Whereby hangs a tale, Sir ?

Clown. Marry, Sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, masters, here's mony for you: and the General so likes your musick, that he desires you for loves sake to make no noise with it.

Muf. Well, Sir, we will not.

Clown. If you have any musick that may not be heard, to't again. But, as they say, to hear musick, the General does not greatly care.

Muf. We have none such, Sir.

Clown. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go, yanish into air, away.

[Exit Muf. Caf. Dost thou hear me, mine honest friend? Clown. No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you. Caf. Pr’ychee, keep up thy quillets, there's a poor peice of gold for Uuu 2


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