CASSIO.
She is indeed perfection.
IAGO.
Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the health of black Othello.
CASSIO.
Not tonight, good Iago. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
IAGO.
O, they are our friends; but one cup: I’ll drink for you.
CASSIO.
I have drunk but one cup tonight, and that was craftily qualified too, and behold, what innovation it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my weakness with any more.
IAGO.
What, man! ’Tis a night of revels. The gallants desire it.
CASSIO.
Where are they?
IAGO.
Here at the door. I pray you, call them in.
CASSIO.
I’ll do’t; but it dislikes me.
[Exit.]