Imatges de pàgina
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Caf. I think that one of them is hereabout; And cannot make away.

Lago. O treacherous villains!

What are you there? come in, and give fome help.

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[Iago ftabs him.

Red. Oh damned Iago! oh inhuman dog!

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

thieves?

How filent is this town! ho, murder! murder !
What may you be? are you of good or evil?
Lod. As you fhall prove us, praise us.
lago. Signior Lodovico?

Lod. He, Sir.

lago. I cry you mercy! here's Caffio hurt by

villains.

Gra. Caffio?

Iago. How is't, brother?

Caf. My leg is cut in two.

Iago. Mary, Heaven forbid !

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. Oh my dear Caffio,

My fweet Caffio, oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio!

Iago. O notable ftrumpet! Caffio, may you fu

fpect

Who they fhould be that have thus mangled you? Caf. No.

Gra. I'm forry to find you thus:

I have been to feek you.

Iago. Lend me a garter. So-------Oh for a chair To bear him easily hence.

Bian. Alas, he faints. Oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio!
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do fufpect this trafh
To be a party in this injury.

Patience awhile, good Caflio; come, come:
Lend me a light: know we this face or no?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman
Rodorigo? no: Yes, fure: yea, 'tis Rodorigo.
Gra. What, of Venice?

lago. Even he, Sir: did you know him?

Gra. Know him? ah!

Jago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon. Thefe bloody accidents must excufe 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?

lago. 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, mistreft, Save you your labour. He that lyes flain here, Caffio, Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?

Caf. None in the world; nor do I know the man. Iago. What, look you pale?-oh, bear him out o th’air.

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Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, miftrefs? Do you perceive the ghaitnefs 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 fpeak, though tongues were out of ufe.

Enter AMILIA.

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

Iago. Caffio hath there been fet on in the dark
By Rodorigo, and fellows that are 'fcaped:
He's almoft 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 fup'd to-night.
What, do you shake at that?

Bian. He fup'd 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 1 fy upon thee!

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

And tell my Lord and Lady what hath happened:
Will you go on. afore?.--This is the night,
That either makes me, or foredaes me quite.

[Exeunt, Iago following.

SCENE, a Bed-chamber; DESDEMONA is discovered afleep in her Bed.

Enter OTHELLO, with a Light and a Sword. Oth. It is the caufe, it is the caufe, my foul;---Let me not name it to you, you chafte ftars! It is the caufe.---Yet I'll not thed her blood, Nor fcar that whiter fkin of hers than fnow,

[Lays down the Sword.

And fmooth as monumental alabaster.

Yet fhe muft die; elfe fhe'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 cunningeft pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relumine.----[Sets down the Taper.
When I have plucked thy rofe,

I cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs must wither.------I'll smell thee on the tree;

[Kiing her. Oh balmy breath, that doft almoft perfuade [more; Juftice to break her fword !----- One more; one Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after.-------One more, that's the laft;

(52) Put out the light, and then put out the light The players, in all the companies where-ever I have feen this tragedy performed, commit an abfurdity he c, in making Othello put out the candle, which, 'tis evident, never was the ct's intention. Desdemona is difcovered in her bed, in the dark; and Othello enters the chamber with a fingle taper. If there were any other lights burning in the room, where would be the drift of putting out his? If there were no others, and that he puts his out, how abfurd is it for Defdemona in the dark to talk of his eyes rowling, and his gnawing his nether-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 best to do it in the dark; this compunction of nature, in the hurry and perturbation of thought, and thofe remains of tenderness fill combating in his bofom, ftrikes him into an instant reflec tion 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 extinguifhed for ever. While he is bufied in this contemplation, he throws his eyes towards her; and then foothed 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.

So fweet, was ne'er fo fatal! I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this forrow's heavenly;
It ftrikes, where it doth love-----She wakes-----
Def. Who's there? Othello?

Oth. Ay, Defdemona.

Def. Will you come to bed, my Lord?
Oth. Have you prayed to-night, Desdemona?
Def. Ay, my Lord.

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconciled as yet to Heaven, and grace,
Solicit for it strait.

Def. Alack, my Lord, What inay you mean by that?

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

No, (heavens forfend !)I would not kill thy foul. Def. Talk you of killing?

Oth. Ay, I do.

Def. Then Heaven 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 fhould 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.

Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.

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

Alas, why gnaw you fo your nether lip ?

Some bloody paflion thakes your very frame;
Thefe are portents: but yet I hope, I hope,

They do not point on me.

Oth. Peace, and be ftill.

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

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