If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace1 Make the Moor thank me, love me, and reward me, And practising upon his peace and quiet, Even to madness. 'Tis here, but SCENE II. A Street. [Exit. Enter a Herald, with a proclamation; People following. Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere 3 perdition of the Turkish fleet, every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and revels his addiction leads him; for, besides these beneficial news, it is the celebration of his nuptials. So much was his pleasure should be proclaimed. All offices are open; and there is full liberty of feasting, from this present hour of five, till the bell hath told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus, and our noble general, Othello! [Exeunt. 1 "If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace For his quick hunting, bear the putting on," &c. This is the reading of the folio; the quarto of 1622 reads crush, which the commentators altered to trash, signifying to impede, to keep back; a meaning the very converse of that required by the context: to trace means neither more nor less than to follow, the appropriate hunting term; the old French tracer, tracher, trasser, and the Italian tracciare, having the same meaning. 2 "In the rank garb," is "in the right down or straight forward fashion.” The folio reads "in the right garb.” 3 Mere is entire. 4 All rooms or places in the castle, at which refreshments are prepared or served out. SCENE III. A Hall in the Castle. Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants. Oth. Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night. Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, Not to outsport discretion. Cas. Iago hath direction what to do; Michael, good night; to-morrow, with our earliest, Let me have speech with you.-Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; [To DESDEMONA. That profit's yet to come 'twixt me and you. Good night. [Exeunt OTH., DES., and Attend. Enter IAGO. Cas. Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. Iago. Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o'clock. Our general cast1 us thus early, for the love of his Desdemona; whom let us not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove. Cas. She's a most exquisite lady. Iago. And, I'll warrant her, full of game. Cas. Indeed, she is a most fresh and delicate creature. Iugo. What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley of provocation. Cas. An inviting eye; and yet, methinks, right modest. Iago. And, when she speaks, is it not an alarm to love? Cas. She is, indeed, perfection. 1 i. e. dismissed us. Iago. Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants, that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello. Cas. Not to-night, good Iago; I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertain ment. Iago. O, they are our friends. But one cup; I'll drink for you. Cas. I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified' too, and, behold, what innovation it makes here. I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more. Iago. What, man! 'tis a night of revels; the gallants desire it. Cas. Where are they? Iago. Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. Cas. I'll do't; but it dislikes me. [Exit CASSIO. Iago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, With that which he hath drunk to-night already, As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool, Whom love has turned almost the wrong side outward, To Desdemona hath to-night caroused Have I to-night flustered with flowing cups, And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, Am I to put our Cassio in some action That may offend the isle.-But here they come : 1 Slyly mixed with water. 2 "As quarrelsome as the discordia semina rerum; as quick in opposition as fire and water." If consequence do but approve my dream,1 Re-enter CASSIO, with him MONTANO, and Gentlemen. Cas. 'Fore Heaven, they have given me a rouse already. Mon. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. Iago. Some wine, ho! And let me the canakin clink, clink; And let me the canakin clink : A soldier's a man; A life's but a span; Why, then, let a soldier drink. Some wine, boys! [Sings. [Wine brought in. 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 expert in his drinking?* Iago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain ; he gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled. Cas. To the health of our general. Mon. I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice.* Iago. O, sweet England! King Stephen was a worthy peer, With that he called the tailor-lown. 1 Every scheme subsisting only in the imagination may be termed a dream. 2 See Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 2, note 1, p. 264. 3 Thus the quarto 1622. The folio has exquisite. 4 i. e. drink as much as you do. He was a wight of high renown, 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 that must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. Iago. It's true, good lieutenant. Cas. For mine own part,-no offence to the general, or any man of quality,-I hope to be saved. Iago. And so do I too, lieutenant. Do 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. not think, gentlemen, I am drunk; this is my ancient; -this is my right hand, and this is my left hand.-I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and speak well enough. All. Excellent well. Cas. Why, very well, then; you must not think, then, that I am drunk. [Exit. 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 the other; 'tis pity of 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. |