Othello Page #6

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...am I to put our Cassio to some

action that may offend the isle.

But here they come.

If consequence do but approve my dream...

...my boat sails freely

with both wind and stream.

'Fore God, they have

given me a rouse already.

Good faith, a little one. Not

past a pint as I am a soldier.

And let me the canakin clink

And let me the canakin clink

A soldier's a man

A life's but a span

Why, then, let a soldier drink

Why, then, let a soldier drink

A soldier's a man

A life's but a span

Why, then, let a soldier drink

Why, then, let a soldier drink

'Fore God, an excellent song.

I learned it in England, where indeed

they are most potent in potting.

Your Dane, your German, your

swagbellied Hollander... Drink, ho.

- Are nothing to your English.

Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking?

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.

- Here's to the health of our general.

- And for you, lieutenant. I'll do you justice.

O, sweet England.

King Stephen was a worthy peer

His breeches cost him but a crown

He held them sixpence all too dear

With that he called the tailor lown

He was a wight of high renown

And thou art but of low degree

'Tis pride that pulls the country down

Take thine auld cloak about thee

CASSlo:
'Fore God, you.

This is a more exquisite song than the other.

- Will you hear't again?

- No...

...for I hold him unworthy of

his place that does those things.

Well, God's above all and there

be souls that must be saved...

...and there be souls must not be saved.

- That is true, good lieutenant.

- For mine own part...

No offense to the general

nor any man of quality.

- I hope to be saved.

- And so do I, lieutenant.

- Ay, but not before me.

The lieutenant is to be

saved before the ancient.

Let's have no more of

this. Let's to our affairs.

God, forgive us our sins. Gentlemen,

let's look to our business.

Do not think, gentlemen, that I am drunk.

This is my ancient.

This is my right hand...

This is my left hand.

I am not drunk now.

I can walk well enough.

I can speak well enough.

- Excellent, well.

- Very well, then!

You must not think that I am drunk.

To th'platform, masters.

Come, let's set the watch.

You see this fellow that is gone before?

He is a soldier fit to stand

by Caesar and give direction.

And do but see his vice.

'Tis pity of him. I fear the

trust othello puts him in...

...on some odd time of his

infirmity, will shake this island.

- But is he often thus?

- 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep.

Not too 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 so?

How now, Roderigo.

After the lieutenant, go.

'Tis a 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? CASSlo:

Zounds, you rogue. You rascal.

MoNTANo:
What's the matter, lieutenant?

- A knave teach me my duty.

I'll beat the knave into a wicker bottle.

- Beat me?

- Dost thou prate, rogue?

- Pray, hold your hand.

- Let go or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.

MoNTANo:
Come, come. You're drunk.

Drunk!

Come, chrissake, cry mutiny.

Diablo, ho! The town will rise.

God's will, lieutenant.

You will be shamed forever.

What is the matter here?

Zounds, I bleed. I am hurt to the death.

- Hold for your lives!

- Hold! Lieutenant, sir, Montano, gentlemen.

Have you forgot all sense of place and duty?

Hold! The general speaks. Hold for shame.

Why, how now, ho!

From whence ariseth this?

Are we turned 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 lago, that looks dead with grieving.

Speak, who began this?

On thy love, I charge thee.

If partially affined or leagued in office,

thou dost deliver more or less than truth.

- Thou art no soldier...

- Touch me not so near.

I'd rather have this

tongue cut from my mouth...

...than it should do

offense to Michael Cassio.

Yet I persuade myself, to speak

the truth shall nothing wrong him.

Thus it is, general. Montano

and myself being in speech...

...there comes a fellow

crying out for help...

...and Cassio following him with

determined sword to execute upon him.

Sir, this gentleman steps in to

Cassio and entreats his pause.

Myself the crying fellow did

pursue, lest by his clamor...

...as it so fell out the

town might fall in fright.

He, swift of foot, outran my purpose...

...and I returned the rather for that

I heard the clink and fall of swords...

...and Cassio high in oath...

...which till tonight

I ne'er might say before.

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.

More of this matter can I not report.

But men are men...

...the best sometimes forget.

Though Cassio did some little wrong to him...

...as men in rage strike

those who wish them best...

...yet surely Cassio, I

believe, received from him...

...that fled some strange indignity,

which patience could not pass.

I know, lago.

Thy honesty and love

doth mince this matter...

...making it light to Cassio.

Cassio.

I love thee, but never

more be officer of mine.

Look if my gentle love be not raised up.

I'll make thee an example.

What's the matter?

All's well now, sweeting. Come away to bed.

Sir, for your hurts, myself will

be your surgeon. Lead him off.

Lago, look with care about the town...

...and silence those whom

this vile brawl distracted.

Come, my Desdemona.

'Tis the soldiers' life to have their

balmy slumbers waked with strife.

- What, are you hurt, lieutenant?

- Ay, past all surgery.

Marry, heaven forbid.

Reputation.

Reputation. Reputation,

I have lost my reputation.

I have lost the immortal

part, sir, of myself...

...and what remains is bestial.

My reputation, lago, my reputation.

As I am an honest man...

...I thought you'd

received some bodily wound.

There is more offense in

that than in reputation.

Reputation is an idle and

most false disposition...

...oft got without merit

and lost without deserving.

You have lost no reputation at all

unless you repute yourself such a loser.

What, man, there are ways

to recover the general again.

You are now but cast in his mood, a

punishment more in policy than in malice.

Sue to him again and he's yours.

I will rather sue to be despised

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