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Every way makes my gain. Live Rodorigo,
He calls me to a restitution large

Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him,
As gifts to Defdemona.

It must not be. If Caffio do remain,

He hath a daily beauty in his life,

That makes me ugly; and befides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there ftand I in peril ;
No, he muft die. Be it fo; I hear him coming.
Enter Caffio.

Rod. I know his gate; 'tis he: villain, thou diest.
[He runs at Caffio and wounds bim.

Caf. That thruft had been mine enemy indeed,

But that my coat is better than thou know'ft:

I will make proof of thine.

Rod. Oh, I am flain.

[Fight, and both fall.

Caf. I'm maim'd for ever; help, hoa! murther, murther! [lago behind cuts Caffio on the leg, and Exit.

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Enter Othello above at a Window.

Oth. The voice of Caffio; Iago keeps his word.

Rod. Oh villain that I am!

Oth. It is even fo.

Caf. Oh help, ho! light! a furgeon!

Oth. 'Tis he! oh brave Iago, honest and juft, That haft fuch noble fenfe 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 thofe charms thine eyes have blotted: Thy bed luft-ftain'd, fhall with luft's blood be spotted.

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[Exit Othello.

III.

Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.

Caf. What, ho! no watch? no paffage? murther, murther!

Gra.

1

Gra, 'Tis fome mifchance, 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 unfafe
To come into the cry, without more help.

Rod. No body come? then fhall I bleed to death.

Enter lago, in his shirt, with a Light and Sword.
Lod. Hark.

[weapons.
Gra. Here's one comes in his fhirt, with light and
Iago. Who's there? whofe noife 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 fame indeed, a very valiant fellow.
Iago. What are you here, that cry so grievously?
Caf. Iago? oh I'm spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me fome 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 fome help.

Rod. Oh help me there.

Caf. That's one of them.

Iago. Oh murd'rous flave! oh villain! [lago ftabs him.

Rod. Oh damn'd Iago! oh inhuman dog!

[Dies.

Iago. Kill men i'th'dark? where be thefe bloody thieves?

How filent is this town! ho, murther! murther!

What may you be? are you of good or evil?

Lod. As you fhall prove us, praise us.

Iago. Signior Lodovico?

Lod. He, Sir.

Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Caffio hurt by villains.

VOL. VI.

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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 fhirt.

SCENE IV.

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 Caffio,

My fweet Caffio, oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio!

Jago. Oh notable ftrumpet! Caffio, may you suspect Who they should be, that have thus mangled you? Caf. No.

Gra. I am forry to find you thus:

I have been to feek you.

Iago. Lend me a garter.

To bear him eafily hence.

So-Oh for a chair,

Bian. Alas, he faints. Oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio!
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do fufpect this trafh
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 country-man
Rodorigo? no: yes fure: yea, 'tis Rodorigo.
Gra. What, of Venice?

Iago. Even he, Sir: did you know him?
Gra. Know him? ay.

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon; Thefe bloody accidents must excuse my manners,

That fo neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to fee 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,

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I'll fetch the General's furgeon. For you, mistress,
Save you your labour. He that lyes +flain here,`
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?
Caf. 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, miftress ?
Do you perceive the gaftnefs of her eye?
Nay, if you ftare, we shall hear more anon.
Behold her well, I pray you look upon her,
Do you fee, gentlemen? nay, guiltine's
Will speak, though tongues were out of ufe.

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Emil. Alas, what is the matter?

What is the matter, husband?

[To Bianca.

Iago. Caffio hath here been fet on in the dark By Rodorigo, and fellows that are 'fcap'd:

He's almoft flain, and Rodorigo dead.

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Caffio!
Iago. This is the fruit of whoring.

Pray, Æmilia,
Go know of Caffio where he fupt to-night.

What, do you shake at that?

Bian. He fupt at my houfe, but I therefore shake not.
Iago. Oh did he fo? I charge you go with me.

Emil. Oh fie upon thee, ftrumpet!

Bian. I am no ftrumpet, but of life as honeft

As you that thus abufe me.

Emil. As I? fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's fee poor Caffio dreft. Come, mistress, you muft tell's another tale. Emilia, 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 flain here, Caffio,

L12

SCENE

SCENE. VI.

A Bed-Chamber: Defdemona is difcovered afle

Oth. I

in her bed.

Enter Othello, with a Light, and a Sword.
T is the cause, it is the cause, my foul,

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars,

It is the cause. Yet I'll not fhed her blood,

Nor fear that whiter skin of hers than fnow,

[Lays down the furi

And smooth as monumental alabaster:
Yet fhe muft die, elfe fhe'll betray more men.
'Put out the light: and then

put out thy light.*

If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light reftore,
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 Candle, not putting it out.

When I have pluck'd 'the' rofe,

I cannot give it vital growth again,

It needs muft wither I'll fmell thee on the tree;

[Kiffing her.

Oh balmy breath, that doft almost perswade
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 strikes, where it doth love She wakes

Def. Who's there? Othello?

Oth. Ay, Desdemona.

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

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

Oth.

6 thy

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