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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.

1

"

[To LODOVICO and GRATIANO.

Rod. O, help me here!

Cas. That's one of them.

Iago.

O murderous slave! O villain!

[IAGO stabs RODERIGO.

Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!—

O! O! O!

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.
Lod. He, sir.

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Signior Lodovico?

cry you mercy; Here's Cassio hurt

Cassio?

whose noise is this, that cries on murder?] Such was the

phraseology of Shakspeare's age.

Iago.

Iago.

How is it, brother?

Cas. My leg is cut in two.

Marry, heaven forbid!-Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt.

Enter BIANCA.

Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is't that cry'd? Iago. Who is't that cry'd?

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

Iago. O notable strumpet!-Cassio, may you sus→

pect

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.

Iago. Lend me a garter: So. O, for a chair, To bear him easily hence!

Bian. Alas, he faints:-O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio! Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash To be a party in this injury.

Patience a while, 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; O heaven! Roderigo.
Gra. What, of Venice?

Iago. Even he, sir; did you know him?

Know him? ay.

Gra. 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!

Iago. He, he, 'tis he:-O, that's well said;the chair:- [A Chair brought in. G G

VOL. IX.

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 BIAN.] What, look you pale?—0,
bear him out o'the air.-

[CASSIO and ROD. are borne off. Stay you, good gentlemen:-Look you pale, mis

tress?

Do you perceive the gastness 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. 'Las, what's the matter; what's the matter, husband?

Jago. 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. This is the fruit of whoring.-Pr'ythee,
Emilia,

Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night:-
What, 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. Fye, fye upon thee, strumpet!

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

Emil.

As I foh! fye 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 has happ'd.—

Will you go on, I pray?—This is the night, [Aside. That either makes me, or fordoes me quite.

8

[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.

[Takes off his Sword. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light:1

8 — or fordoes me quite.] To fordo, is to undo, to ruin, to destroy.

9 It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,

Let me not name it-] The abruptness of this soliloquy makes it obscure. The meaning, I think, is this:-I am here (says Othello in his mind) overwhelmed with horror. What is the rea

son of this perturbation? Is it want of resolution to do justice? Is it the dread of shedding blood? No; it is not the action that shocks me, but it is the cause, it is the cause, my soul; let me not name it to you, ye chaste stars! it is the cause. JOHNSON.

1 Put out the light, and then put out the light:] This is one of the passages in which, by a modern regulation, our poet's words have obtained a meaning, which in my opinion was not in his thoughts. Mr. Upton was the first person who introduced the conceit in this line, which has been adopted since his book appeared, by pointing it thus:

Put out the light, and then-Put out the light! &c.

If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent me:-but once put out thine,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume.

thy rose,

When I have pluck'd

I cannot give it vital growth again,

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

[Kissing her.

O balmy breath, that dost 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 this 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.

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

Des. Alas, 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;

I entirely agree with Dr. Farmer, that this regulation gives a spirit to this passage that was not intended. The poet, I think, meant merely to say,- "I will now put out the lighted taper which I hold, and then put out the light of life;" and this introduces his subsequent reflection and comparison, just as aptly, as supposing the latter words of the line to be used in the same sense as in the beginning of it, which cannot be done without destroying that equivoque and play of words of which Shakspeare was so fund. MALONE.

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