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Caf. That Thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know'ft: I will make proof of thine. (Fight. Iago cuts Cassio behind in the Leg, and exit.

(Then Rodorigo and Cassio fall. Rod. Oh, I am flain. Caf. I'm maim'd for ever ; help, hoa! murder,

murder !

Oth.

SCENE II.
Enter Othello above at a Window.
THE
"HE voice of Caffio,-Iago keeps his word.

Rod. Oh, villain that I am !
Oth. It is even fo.
Caf. Oh, help, oh! light! a surgeon !

Oih. 'Tis he! oh brave lago, honest and just, That haft such noble sense of thy friend's wrong; Thou teachest me-Minion, your Dear lies dead; And your fate hyes apace.--Strumpet, I come: From off my heart, those charms, thine eyes, are

blotted : Thy bed, luft-stain'd, shall with luft's blood be spotted.

Exit Othello.

Cas. WHA

S CE N E III.
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano, at a distance.
HAT, ho! no watch? no passage ? mur.

der, murder ! Gra. 'Tis some mischance; the voice is very direCaf. Oh help!

[ful. Lod. Hark ! Rod. Oh wretched villain !

Lod: Two or three groans. It is a heavy night ; These may be counterfeits : let's think't unsafe To come into the cry, without more help. Rod. No body come ? then shall I bleed to death.

Enter

Enter Iago, in his shirt, with a Light and Sword.
Lod. Hark-
Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt with light and

weapons. Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this, that cries

out murder?
Lod. We do not know.
Iago. Do not you hear a cry?
Caf. Here, here : for heav'n's sake, help me.
Iago. What's the matter ?
Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it.
Lod. The fame, indeed, a very valiant fellow.
Iago. What are you

here that cry fo grievouly?
Caf. Iago? oh I'm spoild, undone by villains !
Give me some help.
Iago. Oh me, lieutenant ! what villains have done

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

lago. Oh treacherous villains ! What are you there? come in, and give some help.

To Lod. and Gra. Rod. Oh, help me there. Caf. That's one of them. lago. Oh murd'rous flave ! oh villain !

[Iago stabs him. · Rod. Oh damn'd lago ! oh inhuman dog! lago. Kill men i'th' dark ? where be these 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.
Iago. Signior Lodovico ?.
Lod. He, Sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy ? here's Casio, hurt by vil-

lains. Gra. Caffio?

lago.

logo. How is't, brother ?
Caf. My leg is cut in two.

lago. Marry, heav'n forbid !
Light, gentlemen, I'll bind it with my hirt.

S CE N E

IV.

Enter Bianca.
Bian. HAT is the matter, hoa, who is't that

cry'd ?
Iago. Who is't that cry'd ?
Bian. Oh my dear Cassio,
My sweet Caffio, oh Cassio, Caffio, Caffio !

Iago. O notable ftrumpet! Caffio, you may suspect Who they should be, that haye 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-Oh for a chair To bear him easily bence.

Bian. Alas, he faints. Oh Caffio, Cassio, Casio !

Iago. Gentlemen all, I do fufpeat this Traih
To be a party in this Injury.
Patience a while, good Caffio; come, come:
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no ?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman
Rodorigo? no : Yes, sure : yea, 'tis Rodorigo.

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

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon: These bloody accidents must excufe

my

manners, That so neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to see you.
Iago. How do you, Casio ? oh, a chair, a chair.
Gra. Rodorigo ?

Iago. He, he, 'tis he: ch, that's well said, the chair. Some good man bear him carefully from hence;

l'u

I'll fetch the General's surgeon. For you,

mistress, Save you your labour. He that lies Bain here, Casio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?

Cal. None in the world; nor do I know the man.
Ingo. What, look you pale ? oh, bear him out

o'th' air. Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress ? Do you perceive the galtness of her eye? [To Bian.

you

ftare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her ;
Do you fee, gentlemen ? nay, guiltiness
Will speak, though tongues were out of use.

S GENÉ y.

Enter Emilia.” Æmil. LAS, what is the matter?

Nay, if

Æmil.

lago. Caffio hath there been set on in the dark By Rodorigo, and fellow's that hath 'scap'd : He's almost flain, and Rodorigo dead.

Æmil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Caffio !

lago. This is the fruit of whoring-Pray, Æmilia, Go know of Casio where he supt io-night. What do you laake at that?

(not. Bian. He supi at my house, but I therefore make lago. Ho, did he fo? I charge you go with me. Æmil, Oh fie upon the, ilrumpet!

Bian. I am no ftrumpet, but of life as honest
As
you

that ihus abuse me,
Á mil. As I ? fie upon thee!

lago. Kind gentlemen, let's see poor Caffio drest.
Come, miflrels, you must tell's another tale.
Æmilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath hap'd :
Will you go on afore ?-__This is the night, ,
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.

Exeunt, lago following.

SCENE

S CE N E VI.

A Bed-chamber : Desdemona is discovered asleep in

her Bed. Enter Othello, with a Light and à Sword. Oth. T is the cause, it is the cause, my soul ;

1

I !

It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed ber Blood, .
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,,
And smooth as monumental alabaster :

(Lays down the Sword.
Yet the must die ; else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then-Put out the light ?--
If I quench thee, thou flaming minifter,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethian heat.
That can thy light re-lumine, -- Sets down the taper.
When I have pluck'd thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again;
It needs must wither I'll smell thee on the trees

[Kising her. Oh balmy breath, that doft almost persuade Justice to break her sword 'One more ; one more ; Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, that's the last; So sweet, was ne'er so fatal ! I muft

weep,
But they are cruel tears : this Sorrow's heavnly;
It strikes, where it doth love.----She wakes-

Def. Who's there ? Othello ?
Oih. Ay, Desdemona.
Def. Will you come to bed, my lord ?
Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona ?
Def. Ay, my Lord.
Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime

Unrecon

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