Othello

Iago. Sir, he's rash, and very sodaine in Choller: and happely may strike at you, prouoke him that he may: for euen out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to Mutiny. Whose qualification shall come into no true taste againe, but by the displanting of Cassio. So shall you haue a shorter iourney to your desires, by the meanes I shall then haue to preferre them. And the impediment most profitably remoued, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperitie Rodo. I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity Iago. I warrant thee. Meete me by and by at the Cittadell. I must fetch his Necessaries a Shore. Farewell Rodo. Adieu. Enter. Iago. That Cassio loues her, I do well beleeu't: That she loues him, 'tis apt, and of great Credite. The Moore (howbeit that I endure him not) Is of a constant, louing, Noble Nature, And I dare thinke, he'le proue to Desdemona A most deere husband. Now I do loue her too, Not out of absolute Lust, (though peraduenture I stand accomptant for as great a sin) But partely led to dyet my Reuenge, For that I do suspect the lustie Moore Hath leap'd into my Seate. The thought whereof, Doth (like a poysonous Minerall) gnaw my Inwardes: And nothing can, or shall content my Soule Till I am eeuen'd with him, wife, for wife. Or fayling so, yet that I put the Moore, At least into a Ielouzie so strong That iudgement cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poore Trash of Venice, whom I trace For his quicke hunting, stand the putting on, Ile haue our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moore, in the right garbe (For I feare Cassio with my Night-Cape too) Make the Moore thanke me, loue me, and reward me, For making him egregiously an Asse, And practising vpon his peace, and quiet, Euen to madnesse. 'Tis heere: but yet confus'd, Knaueries plaine face, is neuer seene, till vs'd. Enter. Scena Secunda. Enter Othello's Herald with a Proclamation. Herald. It is Othello's pleasure, our Noble and Valiant Generall. That vpon certaine tydings now arriu'd, importing the meere perdition of the Turkish Fleete: euery man put himselfe into Triumph. Some to daunce, some to make Bonfires, each man, to what Sport and Reuels his addition leads him. For besides these beneficiall Newes, it is the Celebration of his Nuptiall. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open, & there is full libertie of Feasting from this present houre of fiue, till the Bell haue told eleuen. Blesse the Isle of Cyprus, and our Noble Generall Othello. Enter. Enter Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, and Attendants. Othe. Good Michael, looke you to the guard to night. Let's teach our selues that Honourable stop, Not to out-sport discretion Cas. Iago, hath direction what to do. But notwithstanding with my personall eye Will I looke to't Othe. Iago, is most honest: Michael, goodnight. To morrow with your earliest, Let me haue speech with you. Come my deere Loue, The purchase made, the fruites are to ensue, That profit's yet to come 'tweene me, and you. Goodnight. Enter. Enter Iago. Cas. Welcome Iago: we must to the Watch Iago. Not this houre Lieutenant: 'tis not yet ten o'th' clocke. Our Generall cast vs thus earely for the loue of his Desdemona: Who, let vs not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her: and she is sport for Ioue Cas. She's a most exquisite Lady Iago. And Ile warrant her, full of Game Cas. Indeed shes a most fresh and delicate creature Iago. What an eye she ha's? Me thinkes it sounds a parley to prouocation Cas. An inuiting eye: And yet me thinkes right modest Iago. And when she speakes, Is it not an Alarum to Loue? Cas. She is indeed perfection Iago. Well: happinesse to their Sheetes. Come Lieutenant, I haue a stope of Wine, and heere without are a brace of Cyprus Gallants, that would faine haue a measure to the health of blacke Othello Cas. Not to night, good Iago, I haue very poore, and vnhappie Braines for drinking. I could well wish Curtesie would inuent some other Custome of entertainment Iago. Oh, they are our Friends: but one Cup, Ile drinke for you Cassio. I haue drunke but one Cup to night, and that was craftily qualified too: and behold what inouation it makes heere. I am infortunate in the infirmity, and dare not taske my weakenesse with any more Iago. What man? 'Tis a night of Reuels, the Gallants desire it Cas. Where are they? Iago. Heere, at the doore: I pray you call them in Cas. Ile do't, but it dislikes me. Enter. Iago. If I can fasten but one Cup vpon him With that which he hath drunke to night alreadie, He'l be as full of Quarrell, and offence As my yong Mistris dogge. Now my sicke Foole Rodorigo, Whom Loue hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, To Desdemona hath to night Carrows'd. Potations, pottle-deepe; and he's to watch. Three else of Cyprus, Noble swelling Spirites, (That hold their Honours in a wary distance, The very Elements of this Warrelike Isle) Haue I to night fluster'd with flowing Cups, And they Watch too. Now 'mongst this Flocke of drunkards Am I put to our Cassio in some Action That may offend the Isle. But here they come. Enter Cassio, Montano, and Gentlemen. If Consequence do but approue my dreame, My Boate sailes freely, both with winde and Streame Cas. 'Fore heauen, they haue giuen me a rowse already Mon. Good-faith a litle one: not past a pint, as I am a Souldier Iago. Some Wine hoa. And let me the Cannakin clinke, clinke: And let me the Cannakin clinke. A Souldiers a man: Oh, mans life's but a span, Why then let a Souldier drinke. Some Wine Boyes Cas. 'Fore Heauen: an excellent Song Iago. I learn'd it in England: where indeed they are most potent in Potting. Your Dane, your Germaine, and your swag-belly'd Hollander, (drinke hoa) are nothing to your English Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking? Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine. He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next Pottle can be fill'd Cas. To the health of our Generall Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice Iago. Oh sweet England. King Stephen was anda worthy Peere, His Breeches cost him but a Crowne, He held them Six pence all to deere, With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne: He was a wight of high Renowne, And thou art but of low degree: 'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe, And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee. Some Wine hoa Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other