Or Caffio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain.

Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large

Of gold, and jewels, that I bob'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; ånd, besides, 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 gait, 'tis he.-Villain, thou dieft. [He runs at Caffio, and wounds him, Caf. That thruft had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know'st. I will make proof of thine.

[Fight. Iago cuts Caffio behind in the leg, and exit. Rod. Oh, I am slain!

Caf. I am maim'd for ever.-Help, ho! murder! murder!

Enter Othello above.

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, honeft and juft, That hath fuch noble fenfe of thy friend's wrong! Thou teachest me-Minion, your dear lies dead; And your fate hies apace.-Strumpet, I come : Forth of my heart thofe charms, thine eyes, are blotted,

Thy bed, luft ftain'd, shall with luft's blood be spotted. [Exit Othello.

Enter

Enter Lodovico and Gratiano at a distance.

Caf. What, ho! No watch? No paffage? Murder, murder!

Gra. 'Tis fome mischance; the voice is very

ful.

Rod. O wretched villain !

dire

Lod. Two or three groans. It is 3 a heavy night; These may be counterfeits: let's think't unfafe To come in to the cry without more help.

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

Lod. Hark

Enter Iago with a light.

Gra. Here one comes in his fhirt, with light and weapons.

Iago. Who's there? Whose noife is this that cries out murder?

Lod. We do not know.

Iago. Do not you hear a cry?

Caf. Here, here: for heaven'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 fo grievously?
Caf. Iago? oh I am 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.

2

* —No passage ?—] No passengers? No body going by?

3a heavy night ;] A thick cloudy night, in which an ambush may be commodiously laid. JOHNSON.

Iago. Oh treacherous villains!

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

Rod. Oh, help me here!

Caf. That's one of them.

[To Lod. and Gra.

Iago. O murderous flave! oh villain !

[Iago ftabs him. Rod. Oh damn'd Iago! oh inhuman dog! Oh!

oh! oh!

Iago. Kill men i' the dark? Where be these 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.

Iago. Signior Lodovico?

Lod. He, Sir.

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

lains.

Gra. Caffio?

Iago. How is it, brother?

Caf. My leg is cut in two.

Jago. 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. Oh my dear Caffio! my sweet Caffio!

Oh Caffio! Caffio! Caffio!

Iago. O notable strumpet! Caffio, may you fufpect 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. So.-Oh for a chair

To bear him easily hence!]

Bian. Alas, he faints :-oh Caffio! Caffio! Caffio!
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash,

VOL. X.

I i

To

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 countryman
Roderigo? No: yes, fure: yes, 'tis Roderigo.
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 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. Roderigo!

Iago. 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, mistress,
[To Bianca.
Save you your labour. He that lies flain here, Caffio,
Was my
dear friend. What malice was between you?
Caf. None in the world; nor do I know the man.
Iago. [To Bian.] What, look you pale ?-Oh, bear
him out o' the air.

Stay you, good gentlemen.-Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gaftness of her eye?
Nay, if you ftare, we fhall hear more anon.
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her;
Do you fee, gentlemen? Nay, guiltinefs
Will speak, though tongues were out of use.

Enter Emilia.

Emil. Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter, hufband?

Iago. Caffio has here been fet on in the dark By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd: He's almost flain, and Roderigo dead.

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Caffio

Lago.

Jago. This is the fruit of whoring.—Pr'ythee,
Æmilia,

Go know of Caffio where he fupp'd to-night:
What, do you shake at that?

As

Bian. He fupp'd 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 you that thus abuse me.

Emil. As I foh! fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go fee poor Caffie drefs'd.

Come, miftrefs, you must tell us another tale.
Æmilia, run you 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.

SCENE

II.

[Exeunt.

A bed-chamber: Defdemona afleep. A light burning.

Enter Othello.'

Oth. 4 It is the cause, it is the cause, my foul;Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars,

It is the caufe, it is the caufe, my foul;

Let me not name it] The abruptnefs of this foliloquy makes it obfcure. The meaning, I think, is this: "I am here (fays Othello in his mind) overwhelmed with horror. "What is the reafon of this perturbation? Is it want of re"folution to do juftice? Is it the dread of fhedding blood? No; it is not the action that shocks me, but it is the cause, "it is the caufe, my foul; let me not name it to you, ye chafte "fars! it is the caufe." JOHNSON.

Othello, full of horror at the cruel action which he is about to perpetrate, feems at this inftant to be feeking his juftification, from reprefenting to himfelf the caufe, i. e. the greatnefs of the provocation he had received. STEEVENS.

Ii 2

Yet