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Gra. Here one comes in his Ihirt with light and weapons.

190114, 1070 lago. Who's there? Whose noise is this, that cries

out murder? Lod. We do not know. Tago. Do not you hear a cry? Caf. Here, here. For heaven's fake, help me. Tago. What's the matter? H Gra. This is Otbello's Ancient, as I take it. Lod. The fame, indeed, is a very valiant fellow. Iago. What are you here, that cry fo grievously? Cas. Iago ? oh I'm spoild, undone by villains! Give me some helpe

02.1990 M Iago. Oh me, lieutenant ! what villains have done

this? Caf. I think, that one of them is hereabout; And cannot make away.

Iago. O treacherous villains ! What are you there? Come in, and give fome help.

[Ta Lod. and Gra. Rod. Oh, help me there.

og

I Caf. That's one of them. lago. O murderous Nave! oh villain!

Jetc

(fago ftabs bim. Rod. Oh damn'd Iago! oh inhuman dog! Iago. Kill men i' th dark? Where be thiefe bloody

thieves ?
How silent is this town? ho, murder! murder!
What may you be ? are you of good or evil?

Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.
laga. Signior Lodovico ?
Lod. He, Sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy! Here's Caffio, hurt by vil-

lains.
Gra. Casio?
Iago. How is't, brother?
Caf. My leg is cut in two.

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Jago. Marry, heaven forbid !
Light, gentlemen, I'll bind it with my shirt.

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Bian. What is the inatter, hoa, who is't that cry'd ?
Jago. Who is't that cry'd ?

Bian. Oh my dear Caffio,
My sweet Caffio, oh-Casio, Caffio, Casio.

Iago. O notable strumpet! Caffio, may you sufpect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?

Caf. No.
Gra. I'm sorry to find you

thus :
I have been to seek you.

Iago. Lend me a garter. So-Ob for a chair
To bear him easily bence.

Bian. Alas, he faints. Oh Casio, Cafio, Casio !

Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash,
To be a party in this Injury.
Patience a while, good Callio.

Come, come,
Lend me a Light. Know we this face, or no?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman
Roderigo ? no: Yes, sure: yea, 'tis Roderigo.

Gra. What, of Venice?
Iago. Even he, Sir, did you know him?
Gra. Know him ? ah!

lago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon. Thele bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That so neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to see you.
Iago. How do you, Casio ? Oh, a chair, a chair.
Gra. Roderigo?
Iago. He, he, 'tis he. Oh, that's well said. The
chair,

Some

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Some good man bear him carefully from hence;snj
I'll fetch the General's furgeon. For you, mistress,

[To Bianca. Save you your labour. He that lies Nain here, Cassio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?

Caf. None in the world; nor do I know the man.
Iago. (To Bian.) What, look you pale?-Oh, bear

him out o'th' air.
Stay, you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress ?
Do you perceive the gaftness of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I

pray you, look

upon Do you see, gentlemen ? Nay, guiltiness ** Will speak, though tongues were out of use.

her;

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Æmil. Alas, what is the matter?
What is the matter, husband ?

Iago. Cassio hath there been set on in the dark
By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd :
He's almost Nain, and Roderigo dead.

Æmil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Caffio !
Iago. This is the fruit of whoring-Pray, Æmilia,
Go know of Casio where he supt to-night.
What, do you íhake at that?
Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake

not.
Iago. Oh, did he fo? I charge you go with me.
Æmil. Oh fy upon thee, strumpet! Tessus

Bian. I am no ftrumpet, but of life as honeft seis
As you that thus abuse me.

within li steze wond is coas as it Æmil. As I ? fy upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's see poor Cafo drejt. Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale. 91..7

Æmilla

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Æmilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my Lord and lady what hach happ'd.
Will you go on afore? This is the night,
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.

TOY 09 tiri, W9uIik [Exeunt, Iago following.
as criado An, Qis
TE DO

SCE" N E VI.
Caign in giocoy 100
A Bed-chamber. Desdemona is discovered asleep in

ber bed.

ITII

Enter Othello, with a Light and a Sword.
Otb. ' TT is the cause, it is the cause, my soul;

Let me not name it to you, you chalte Stars !
It is the cause. Yet l'll not shed her Blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster,

[Lays down the sword,
Yer she must die ; else she'll betray more men.
* Put out the light, and, then--Pụt out the light?
If I quench thee, thou Aaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,

Should

It is the caufi, it is 't be cause, 4 Put out the light, and then my soul;

put out the light.] This, I Let me not name ito ] The conceive, to have been the poet's abruptness of this foliloquy meaning. Othello, Aruck in part makes it obscure. The meaning with remorse at the murder he's I think is this. I am here, says going to do, thinks it best to do Othello in his mind, overwhelin- it in the dark; this compunc. ed with horror, What is the rea. tion of nature, in the hurry and son of this perturbation ? Is it perturbation of thought, and want of resolution to do juflice? Is it those remains of tenderness still the dread of shedding blood? No; combating in his bofam, strikes it is not the action that shocks me, him into an instant reflexion, but it is the cause, it is the cause," that if he puts out the light he my foul; let me not name it to can rekindle it; but if he once you, ye cháste stars !sit is the puts out the light of her life, Cause,

nive,,
* ): 1657

that will be extinguish'd for ever.
Gg 4

While

lores, one more.. templation, he throws bis eyes himself an hort, and questions 456 O Ty HE, LOL 0, Should I repent: but once put out thy light it toiled Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature in I know not where is char Promethean heats ujan That can thy light re-lumine. [Sets dezen the taper. When I have pluck’d thy rose, neto tlo, os" 100 I cannot give it vital growth against1101 gradov It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree;

cob Kiling ber. Oh balmy breath, that doft almoft perfuade lj Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, CI

I And love thee after-One more; that's the lafta io So sweet, was ne'er fo fatal! I must weep. I But they are cruel tears. 5 This sorrow's heavenly It strikes, where it doth love. She wakes

Des. Who's there? Otbello?
Oib. Ay, Desdemona,
Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord ?

I
Oih. Have you pray'd to night, Desdemona. O
Def. Ay, my Lord.

tas Oib. If you bethink yourself of any crime of Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven, and grace,

usisa! sro While he is bufied in this con- he breaks thort, and questions

the towards her; and then, footh'd metaphorical extinction, intro. with her beauteous appearance, duced by a repetition of his first fets down the light, to go and words, as much as to say. But kiss her. Upon this, Defaemona hold, let me forft weigh the rewakes; and they continue in Hexions which this expreflion fo discourse together till he 'fifles : naturally excites,

THEOB. 5--This Sorror's heavenly :] Put out the light, and thene This ytenderness, with which I

Put oict the light?-) So it Jament the pun fhment which should be printed. The mean- justice compels me to infia, is a ing is, I will put out the light, holy paffion and then proceed to the execution with thefe two lines could of my purpose. But the expres. be honestly ejected. It is the fate fion of putting out the light, of Siakespeare to counteract his bringing to mind the effects of own pathos. the extinction of the light of life,

Solicie

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