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Every way makes my gain.

my gain. Live Rodorigo,
He calls me to a reftitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him,
As gifts to Desdemona.
It must not be. If Casio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life,
That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him ; there stand I in peril ;
No, he must die. Be it so; I hear him coming.

Enter Caffio.
Rod. I know his gate; 'tis he : villain, thou dieft.

[He runs at Cassio and wounds bim. Caf. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know'st : I will make proof of thine. Rod. Oh, I am Nain.

[Figbt, and both fall. Caf. I'm maim'd for ever; help, hoa! murther, murther!

[lago behind cuts Cassio on the leg, and Exii.

C Ε Ν Ε ́ II.
Enter Othello above at a Window.
Oib. The voice of Casio; Iago keeps his word.
Rod, Oh villain that I am!
Oth. It is even so.
Cas. Oh help, ho! light! a surgeon!

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

[Exit Othello. с E N E III.

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Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.
Caf. What, ho! no watch? no passage? murther, murther!

Gra.

Gra, 'Tis some mischance, the voice is very direful.
Caf. Oh help!
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 lago, in his pirt, with a Light and Sword. Lod. Hark.

[weapons Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and lago. Who's there? whose, noise is this that cries out Lod. We do not know,

(murther?
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 same indeed, a very valiant fellow.
Iago. What are you here, that cry fo grievously?
Caf. Iago ? oh I'm spoil'd, undone by villains !
Give me some help.

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 some help.

Rod. Oh help me there.
Caf. That's one of them.
lago. Oh murd'rous Nave! oh villain ! [lago stabs him.
Rod. Oh damn'd Iago ! oh inhuman dog! [Dies.

Iago. Kill men i'ch'dark? where be these bloody thieves?
How filent is this town! ho, murther! murther!
What may you be ? are you of good or evil ?

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

LI

Gra.

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Gra. Caffio ?
Iago. How is't, brother?
Caf. My leg is cut in two.
lago. Marry heav'n forbid :
Light, Gentlemen, I'll bind it with my shirt,

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Enter Bianca. Bian. What is the matter, hoa ? who is't that cry'd? lago. Who is't that cry'd!

Bian. Oh my dear Callio,
My sweet Caffio, oh Calfio, Caffio, Caffio !

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

Caf. No.

Gra. I am 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 Caffo, Caffo, Cafo!

lago. 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 country-man
Rodorigo ? no: yes sure : yea, 'tis Rodorigo.

Gra. What, of Venice?
lago. Even he, Sir: did you know him?
Gra. Know him ? ay.

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

Gra. I am glad to see you.
Iago. How do you, Gaffio ? oh a chair, a chair.
Gra. Rodorigo 2

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

I'll fetch the General's surgeon. For you, mistress,
Save you your labour. He chat lyes 4 ' Nain here,'
Was my dear friend.

dear friend. What malice was between you? Cas. None in the world ; nor do I know the man.

Iago. What, 1ook you pale?-oh bear him out o'th'air. Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress ? Do you perceive the gastnefs of her eyes Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. [To Bianca. Behold her well, I pray you look upon her, Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltine's Will speak, though tongues were out of use.

SC E N E V.

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

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

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

Iago. This is the fruit of whoring. Pray, Æmilia,
Go know of Casio where he supt to-night.
What, do you shake 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 fie upon thee, strumpet!

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

Æmil. As I? fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's see poor Caffio drest. Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale. Æmilia, run 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.

4 Nain here, Caffio,

LI 2.

SCENE

S CE N E. VI: A Bed-Chamber : Desdemona is discovered aflers

in ber bed.
Enter Othello, with a Light, and a Swordha
Oib. IT is the cause, it is the cause

, my soul,
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars,
It is the cause. Yet l'll not shed her blood,
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,

[Lays down the word
And smooth as monumental alabaster:
Yer she must die, else she'll betray more men.
s/Put out the light: and then put out thy 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’ít pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Prometbean heat
That can thy light re-lumine.

[Sets down the Candle, not putting it oa. When I have pluck d'the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither I'll smell thee on the tree ;

[Kiffing bes. Oh balmy breath, that doft almost perswade Justice to break her sword. One more, one more ; Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee affer-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?

Oib. Ay, Desdemona.
· Def. Will you come to bed, my Lord ?

Oib. Have you pray'd co-night, Desdemona ?
Def. Ay, my Lord.

Oib. i.

5 Put out the light, and, then, put out the light.

6 chy

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