[Exit Roderigo.]
Nay, good lieutenant, God’s will, gentlemen.
Help, ho!—Lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—sir:—
Help, masters! Here’s a goodly watch indeed!
[A bell rings.]
Who’s that which rings the bell?—Diablo, ho!
The town will rise. God’s will, lieutenant, hold,
You will be sham’d forever.
Enter Othello and Attendants.
OTHELLO.
What is the matter here?
MONTANO.
Zounds, I bleed still, I am hurt to the death.
OTHELLO.
Hold, for your lives!
IAGO.
Hold, ho! lieutenant,—sir,—Montano,—gentlemen,—
Have you forgot all place of sense and duty?
Hold! The general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame!
OTHELLO.
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 looks dead with grieving,
Speak, who began this? On thy love, I charge thee.