Thefe bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That fo neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to see you.

Iago. How do you Caffio? oh, a chair, a chair.
Gra. Rodorigo?

Iago. He, he, 'tis he: oh, that's well faid, the chair.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
I'll fetch the General's furgeon. For you, miftrefs,
Save you your labour. He that lies flain 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 o'th' air,
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gaftnefs of her eye? [To Bianca.
Nay, if you ftare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her;
Do you fee, gentlemen? nay, guiltinefs
Will speak, though tongues were out of use.
Enter Emilia.

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

Iago. Cafe hath there been fet on in the dark
By Rodorige, and fellows that are 'fcap'd:
He's almost flain, and Rodorigo dead.

Emil.. Alas, good gentleman alas, good Caffio! Iago. This is the fruit of whoring-Pray, Emilia, Go know of Caffio where he fupt to-night.

What, do you shake at that?

Bian. He fupt at my house, but I therefore shake not. Iago. Oh, did he fo? I charge you go with me. Emil. Oh fy upon thee, ftrumpet!

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

Emil. As I? fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's fee poor Caffio dreft. Come, miftrefs, you must tell's another tale. Emilia, run you to the citadel,

And tell my Lord and lady what hath happ'd:

Will you go on afore ?-This is the night,
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.

[Exeunt, Iago foliowing.

SCENE, a Bed-chamber: Defdemona is dif covered afleep in her bed."

Oth.

Enter Othello, with a Light and a Sword.

T is the caufe, it is the cause, my foul;

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!
It is the caufe.-Yet l'll not fhed her blood,
Nor fear that whiter skin of hers than fnow,
And fmooth as monumental alabaster:

[Lays down the Sword.
Yet fhe muft die; else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and, then, put out the light; (52)
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'ft pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light re-lumine.-

-

[Sets down the taper.

(52) Put out the light, and then put out the light.] The players, in all the companies wherever I have seen this tragedy perform'd, commit an abfurdity here, in making Othello put out the candle, which, 'tis evident, never was the Poet's intention. Defdemona is discover'd in her bed, in the dark; and Othello enters the chamber with a single taper. If there were any other lights burning in the room, where would be the drift of putting out bis? If there were no others, and that he puts bis out, how abfurd is it for Defdemona in the dark to talk of his eyes rowling, and his gnawing bis netber lip ?—This, I conceive, to have been the Poet's meaning. Othello, ftruck in part with remorse at the murder he's going to do, thinks it beft to do it in the dark; this compunction of nature, in the hurry and pertur bation of thought, and thofe remains of tenderness still combating in his bofom, ftrikes him into an inftant reflexion, that if he puts out the light, he can rekindle it; but if he once puts out the light of her life, that will be extinguish'd for ever. While he is bufied in this contemplation, he throws his eyes towards her; and then footh'd with her beauteous appearance, fets down the light, to go and kifs her. Upon this, Defdemona wakes; and they continue in difCourfe together till he ftifles her.

When

When I have pluck'd thy rofe,

I cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs muft wither.

I'll fmell thee on the tree;

[Kiffing ber.

Oh balmy breath, that doft almoft perfuade
Juftice to break her fword!-

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 fweet, was ne'er fo fatal! I must weep,

But they are cruel tears: this forrow's heav'nly;
It ftrikes, where it doth love,

Def. Who's there? Othello?

Oth. Ay, Defdemona.

-She wakes

DS. Will you come to-bed, my Lord?
Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona ?
Def. Ay, my Lord.

Oth. If you bethink yourfelf of any crime
Unreconcil'd as yet to heav'n, and grace,
Sollicit for it ftrait.

Def. Alack, my Lord,

What may you mean by that?

Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I' will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit,

No, (heav'ns forefend!) I would not kill thy foul.
Def. Talk you of killing?

Oth. Ay, I do.

Def. Then heav'n have mercy on me!

Oth. Amen, with all my heart.

Def. If you fay fo, I hope, you will not kill me.
Oth. Hum.

Def. And yet I fear you: for you're fatal then,

When your eyes rowl fo. Why I should fear, I know not, Since guilt I know not yet, I feel, I fear.

Oth. Think on thy fins.

Def. They're loves I bear to you.

Ob. Ay, and for that thou dy'ft.

Def. That death's unnatural, that kills for loving.

Alas, why gnaw you fo your nether lip?

Some bloody paffion fhakes your very frame;

Thefe

Thefe are portents: but yet I'hope, I hope,

They do not point on me.

Qth. Peace, and be ftill.

Def. I will fo: what's the matter?

Oth. That handkerchief

Which I fo lov'd, and gave thee, thou gav't Caffin.
Def. No, by my life and foul: fend for the man,
And ask him.

Oth. Sweet foul, take heed, take heed of perjury; Thou art on thy death-bed.

Def. Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth. Prefently;

Therefore confefs thee freely of thy fin:

For to deny each article with oath,

Cannot remove, nor choak, the ftrong conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.
Def. Oh, heav'n have mercy on me!

Oth. I fay, amen.

Def. And have you mercy too!-I never did
Offend you in my life; never lov'd Caffio,
But with fuch general warranty of heav'n,
As I might love. I never gave him token.
Oth. By heav'n, I faw my handkerchief in's hand.
Oh perjur'd woman! thou doft ftone my heart;
And mak'ft me call, what I intend to do,
A murder, which I thought a facrifice.
I faw the handkerchief.

Def. He found it then ;

I never gave it him; fend for him hither,

Let him confefs a truth.

Oth., He hath confeft.

De What, my Lord ?

Oth. That he hath-us'd thee

Def. How unlawfully?

Oth. Ay.

Def. He will not fay fo.

Oth. No, his mouth is stopp'd;

Honeft lago hath ta'en order for't.

Def. My fear interprets then-What, is he dead?

Oth.

Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had ftomach for them all.

Def. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone.

Oth. Out, ftrumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?
Def. Oh, banish me, my Lord, but kill me not.
Oth. Down, ftrumpet.

Def. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night.
Oth. Nay, if you strive

Def. But half an hour.

Oth. Being done, there is no pause.

Def. But while I say one prayer.

Oth. It is too late.

Emilia, at the door.

[He Smothers her.

Emil. My Lord, my Lord! what hoa! my Lord, my
Lord!

Oth. What noife is this? not dead? not yet quite dead? I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;

I would not have thee linger in thy pain.

So, fo.

Emil. within.] What hoa! my Lord, my Lord!
Oth. Who's there?

[you.
Emil. Oh, my good Lord, I would speak a word with
Orh. Yes; 'tis Emilia-by and by-fhe's dead.
'Tis like, fhe comes to fpeak of Caffio's death;
The noife was high.-Ha, no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall the come in? were't good?
I think, fhe ftirs again-No-what's the beft?
If the come in, fhe'll, fure, fpeak to my wife;
My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife,
Oh infupportable! oh heavy hour!

Methinks it fhould be now a huge eclipfe (53)
Of fun, and moon, and that th' affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration-

(53) Methinks, it should be now a huge eclipfe

Of fun and moon; and that th' affrighted globe

Emil.

Should yawn at alteration.- -] Mr. Rymer is fo merry, as he thinks, upon this paffage, that I can't help tranfcribing his wonderful criticism"This is wonderful. Here is poetry to elevate

" and