Imágenes de páginas

Cal. 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 Callio behind in the Leg, and exit.

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

murder !



Enter Othello above at a Window.
Oth. THE voice of Casio,-lago keeps his word.

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

Oth. 'Tis he! oh brave lago, honest and juft, 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 {potted.

Exit Othello.


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

der, murder! Gra. 'Tis fome 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 Iago, in his firt, 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 fake, 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. lago. What are you here that cry fo grievously?

Caf. Iago? oh I'm fpoild, undone by villains ! Give me some help. lago. Oh me, lieutenant! what villains have done

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

Iago. 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! Iago. Kill men i'th' dark ? where be these bloody

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

Lod. As you shall prove us, praise us.
lago. Signior Lodovico?
Lod. He, Sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy ? here's Casio, hurt by vil-.

lains. Græ. Caßio?


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

Iago. Marry, heav'n forbid !
Light, gentlemen, I'll bind it with


shirt. S CE N E IV.

Enter Bianca.

Bian. WHAT is the matter, hoa, who is't that

Iago. Who is't that cry'd ?

Bian. Oh my dear Cassio,
My sweet Casio, oh Casio, Caffio, Caffio!

Tago. O notable ftrumpet! Caffio, you may suspect 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-Oh for a chair To bear him easily hence.

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

Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Tralb
To be a party in this Injury.
Patience a while, good Caffio; comé, come:
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman
Rodorigo? no : Yes, fure : 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: oh, that's well said, the chair. Some good man bear him carefully from hence;

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I'll fetch the General's furgeon. For you, mistress,
Save you your labour. He that lies dain here, Caffio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?

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

, .
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress ?
Do you perceive the galtness of her eye? [To Bian.
Nay, if


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.


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

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A What will the matcer, husband ?

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Iago. Caffio hath there been set on in the dark By Rodorigo, and fellows that hath 'scap'd : He's almolt flain, and Rodorigo dead.

Æmil. Alas, good gentleman alas, good Caffio!

lago. This is the fruit of whoring--Pray, Æmilia, Go know of Caffo where he supt 10-night. What do you thake at that?

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

Bian. I am no strumpet, but of life as honest
As you that thus. abuse me,
Æmil. As I ? fie


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:


Oth. Let me not name it to you, you chafte Stars!


A Bed-chamber : Desdemona is discovered asleep in

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

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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 she 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

(Kifing 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 fo fatal! I must weep,
But they are cruel tears : this Sorrow's heav nly;
It strikes, where it doth love.-----She wakes

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


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