Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO, at a distance.

Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder! Gra. 'Tis some mischance; the voice is very direful.

Cas. O, help!

Lod. Hark!

Rod. O wretched villain!

Lod. Two or three groan :—it is a heavy night :
These may be counterfeits; let us think it unsafe
To come into the cry without more help.

Rod. Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death.
Lod. Hark!

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.

Enter IAGO.

Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this that cries on murder?
Lod. We do not know.

Iago.
Did you not hear a cry ?
Cas. Here, here; for heaven's sake, 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 so grievously?
Cas. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me some help.

Iago. O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this?
Cas. 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.

[To LODOVICO and GRATIANO.

O murderous slave! O villain!
[IAGO stabs RODERIGO.

Rod. O, Iago! O inhuman dog!—

[Dies.

Iago. Kill men i' the 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 Cassio hurt by villains.

Gra. Cassio!

Marry, heaven forbid !

Cas. My leg is cut in two.

Iago.

Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

Enter BIANCA.

Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is 't that cried?

Iago. Who is 't that cried!

Bian. O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio! Cassio!

Cassio!

Iago. O notable strumpet !—Cassio, may you suspect

Who they should be that have thus mangled you?

Cas. No.

Gra. I am sorry to find you thus: I have been to seek you. Tago. Lend me a garter:-so.-O, for a chair,

To bear him easily hence!

Bian. Alas, he faints :-O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
Tago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash

To be a party in this injury.

Patience awhile, good Cassio.—Come, come ;
Lend me a light.-Know we this face or no?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman,
Roderigo? no :-yes, sure; yes; 'tis Roderigo.
Gra. What, of Venice ?

Tago. Even he, sir; did you know him?
Gra.
Know him! ay.
Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon;

These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,

That so neglected you.

Gra.

I am glad to see you.

Iago. How do you, Cassio ?—O, a chair, a chair!

Gra. Roderigo !

Tago. He, he, 'tis he.-O, that's well said ;-the chair:

[A chair brought in.

Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
I'll fetch the general's surgeon.-For you, mistress,

[TO BIANCA.

Save
you your labour.-He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend: what malice was between you?
Cas. None in the world; nor do I know the man.
Iago. [To BIANCA.] What, look you pale?-O bear him out
o' the air.-

[CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off.
Stay you, good gentlemen.-Look you pale, mistress ?
Do you perceive the ghastness of her eye ?-
Nay, if you stare we shall hear more anon :-
Behold her well; I pray you look upon her:
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
Though tongues were out of use.

Enter EMILIA.

Emil. Alas, what is the matter? what is the matter, husband? Tago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark

By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd;

He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!
Iago. Prithee, Emilia, go know of Cassio

Where he supp'd to-night. [To BIANCA.]

As

Do you shake at that?

Bian. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.
Iago. O, did he so ? I charge you, go with me.
Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!

Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest

you that thus abuse me.

Emil.

As I foh! fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd :Come, mistress, you must tell us 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,

[Aside.

That either makes me or fordoes me quite.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Bedchamber: DESDEMONA in bed asleep; a light burning.

Enter OTHELLO.

Oth. 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 I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
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 minister,

I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent me :—but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,

I know not where is that Promethean heat

That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again,

It needs must wither:-I'll smell it on the tree.

[Kissing her.

O balmy breath, that doth 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, and that's the last:
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,

But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love.-She wakes—

Des. Who's there? Othello?

Oth.

Ay, Desdemona.

Des. Will you come to bed, my lord?
Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona ?
Des.

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.

Ay, my lord.

Des. 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-heaven forfend !-I would not kill thy soul.
Des. Talk you of killing?

Oth.

Des.

Have mercy on me!

Oth.

Ay, I do.

Then heaven

Amen, with all my heart!

Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Oth. Hum!

Des. And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then,
When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet, I feel I fear.

Oth. Think on thy sins.

Des.

They are loves I bear to you.

Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.

Des. That death's unnatural that kills for loving.

Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?

Some bloody passion shakes your very frame :

These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,

They do not point on me.

Oth.

Des. I will so.

Peace, and be still!

What's the matter?

Oth. That handkerchief, which I so lov'd and gave thee,

Thou gav'st to Cassio.