Note.—­King Francis.  This is supposed to have been Francis I. of France (b. 1494, d. 1547).  He was devoted to sports of this nature.

LXXXIX.  THE FOLLY OF INTOXICATION. (322)

Iago.  What, are you hurt, lieutenant? 
Cassio.  Ay, past all surgery. 
Iago.  Marry, heaven forbid! 
Cas.  Reputation, reputation, reputation!  Oh, I have
         lost my reputation!  I have lost the immortal part of myself,
         and what remains is bestial.  My reputation!  Iago, my reputation!

Iago.  As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some
         bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. 
         Reputation is an idle and most false imposition:  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.  Sue to him again, and he’s
         yours.

Cas.  I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a
         commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an
         officer.  Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear?
         and discourse fustian with one’s own shadow?  O thou invisible
         spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call
         thee devil!

Iago.  What was he that you followed with your sword?  What had he
         done to you?

Cas.  I know not.

Iago.  Is’t possible?

Cas.  I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
         but nothing wherefore.  Oh that men should put an enemy in their
         mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy,
         revel, pleasure, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

Iago.  Why, but you are now well enough:  how came you thus
         recovered?

Cas.  It hath pleased the devil, Drunkenness, to give place to the
         devil, Wrath; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me
         frankly despise myself.

Iago.  Come, you are too severe a moraler.  As the time, the place, and
         the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this
         had not befallen; but since it is as it is, mend it for your own
         good.

Cas.  I will ask him for my place again:  he shall tell me I am a
         drunkard!  Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would
         stop them all.  To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and
         presently a beast!  Oh strange!—­Every inordinate cup is
         unblessed, and the ingredient is a devil!  Iago.  Come, come; good
         wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used; exclaim no
         more against it.  And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love
         you.