Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.– Come, Desdemona: ’tis the soldiers’ life To have their balmy slumbers wak’d with strife. Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon: Lead him off. Look, if my gentle love be not rais’d up!– I’ll make thee an example.Īll’s well now, sweeting come away to bed. Cassio, I love thee But never more be officer of mine.– Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, Making it light to Cassio. More of this matter cannot I report – But men are men the best sometimes forget:– Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,– As men in rage strike those that wish them best,– Yet surely Cassio, I believe, receiv’dįrom him that fled some strange indignity, Which patience could not pass. When I came back,– For this was brief,–I found them close together, At blow and thrust even as again they were When you yourself did part them. Lest by his clamour,–as it so fell out,– The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot, Outran my purpose and I return’d the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath which till to-night I ne’er might say before. Sir, this gentleman Steps in to Cassio and entreats his pause: Myself the crying fellow did pursue, There comes a fellow crying out for help And Cassio following him with determin’d sword, To execute upon him. I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth Shall nothing wrong him.–Thus it is, general. If partially affin’d, or leagu’d in office, Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, Thou art no soldier. In night, and on the court and guard of safety! ‘Tis monstrous.–Iago, who began’t? Yet wild, the people’s hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel, Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on And he that is approv’d in this offense, Though he had twinn’d with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me.–What! in a town of war Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. My blood begins my safer guides to rule And passion, having my best judgement collied, Assays to lead the way. While I spare speech, which something now offends me,– Of all that I do know: nor know I aughtīy me that’s said or done amiss this night: Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: Your officer, Iago, can inform you,– The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure: what’s the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus,Īnd spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it. Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil The gravity and stillness of your youth How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? Those legs that brought me to a part of it! I cannot speakĪny beginning to this peevish odds And would in action glorious I had lost Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast In opposition bloody. 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,– Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this? Are we turn’d Turks, and to ourselves do that Which Heaven hath forbid the Ottomites?įor 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. 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! Zounds, I bleed still I am hurt to the death.
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