He'll watch the horologe a double set,
If drink rock not his cradle.
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 Cassio,
And looks not on his evils: is not this true?
How now, Roderigo!
I pray you, after the lieutenant; go.
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.
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?
You rogue! you rascal!
What's the matter, lieutenant?
A knave teach me my duty!
I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle.
Beat me!
Dost thou prate, rogue?
Nay, good lieutenant;
I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
Let me go, sir,
Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.
Come, come,
you're drunk.
Drunk!
Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny.
Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;--
Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir;
Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed!
Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho!
The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold!
You will be shamed for ever.
What is the matter here?
'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death.
Hold, for your lives!
Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,--
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?
Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!
Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this?
Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves 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, masters?
Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee.
I do not know: friends all but now, even now,
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom
Devesting them for bed; and then, but now--
As if some planet had unwitted men--
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast,
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak
Any beginning to this peevish odds;
And would in action glorious I