distance, The very elements of this warlike isle, Have I tonight fluster’d 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: If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. 

 Enter Cassio, Montano and Gentlemen; followed by Servant with wine.

Cassio, Montano

CASSIO. ’Fore God, they have given me a rouse already. 

MONTANO. Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am a soldier. 

IAGO. Some wine, ho! [Sings.] 

 And let me the cannikin clink, clink, And let me the cannikin clink, clink: A soldier’s a man, O, man’s life’s but a span, Why then let a soldier drink. 

Some wine, boys! 

CASSIO. ’Fore God, 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. 

CASSIO. 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. 

CASSIO. To the health of our general! 

MONTANO. I am for it, lieutenant; and I’ll do you justice. 

IAGO. O sweet England! 

[Sings.] 

 King Stephen was a worthy peer, His breeches cost him but a crown; He held them sixpence all too dear, With that he call’d the tailor lown. He was a wight of high renown, And thou art but of low degree: ’Tis pride that pulls the country down, Then take thine auld cloak about thee. 

 Some wine, ho! 

CASSIO. ’Fore God, this is a more exquisite song than the other. 

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