1 Tis one Iago, ancient to the general.
2 It were well The general were put in mind of it.
3 But, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.
4 Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman.
5 For mine own part, no offence to the general, nor any man of quality, I hope to be saved.
6 The duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance Even on the instant.
7 I had been happy if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known.
8 But, masters, here's money for you: and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it.
9 Thus it is, general: Montano and myself being in speech, There comes a fellow crying out for help, And Cassio following him with determin'd sword, To execute upon him.
10 Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and she is sport for Jove.
11 There's a poor piece of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech.
12 Our general's wife is now the general; I may say so in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces.
13 Ay, but, lady, That policy may either last so long, Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, Or breed itself so out of circumstance, That, I being absent, and my place supplied, My general will forget my love and service.
14 What, man, there are ways to recover the general again: you are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue to him again, and he's yours.
15 Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business Hath rais'd me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold on me; for my particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.
16 It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant general, that upon certain tidings now arrived, importing the mere 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 addition leads him.
17 The general and his wife are talking of it, And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safest occasion by the front To bring you in again.
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