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Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou think'st;
I will make proof of thine.

Rod.

(Draws, and wounds Roderigo.)
O, I am slain!

(Iago rushes from his post, cuts Cassio behind
in the leg, and exit.)

Cas. I am maim'd for ever:-Help, oh! murder murder! (Falls.)

Enter OTHELLO, at a distance.

Enter BIANCA.

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

Bian. O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio!
O Cassio! Cassio! Cassio!
[saspect
Iago. O notable strumpet!-Cassio, may you
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,

Oth. The voice of Cassio:-Iago keeps his To bear him easily hence!

word.

Rod. O, villain that I am!

Oth.

Hark! 'tis even so.
Cas. O, help! oh! light! a surgeon!
Oth. 'Tis he;-O brave Iago, honest, and just,
That hast such noble sense 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 those charms, thine eyes, are
blotted.

Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be
spotted:
[Exit Othello.
Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO, at a distance.
Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage? mur-
der! murder!

Gra. "Tis some mischance; the cry is very dire-
ful.

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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 grivously?
Cas. Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me some help.

[this?
Iago. O me, lieutenant! what villians have done
Cas. I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.

O treacherous villains!—

Iago. What are you there? come in, and give some help. (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.

By villains.

Iago.

Gra.

Iago.

Iago.

Signior Lodovico?
I cry you mercy: Here's Cassio hurt

Cassio?

How is it, brother?

Cas. My leg is cut in two.

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

Bian. Alas, he faints:-O Cassio! Cassio! Cassia!
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! Roderiga.
Gra. What, of Venice?

Iago. Even he, sir; did you know him?
Gra.
Know him? ar.
Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle par-
don;

These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,
That so neglected you.
Gra.
I am glad to see you.
Iago. How do you, Cassio ?—Ö, a chair, a chair!
Gra. Roderigo!

Iago. He, he, 'tis he:-O, that's well said;-
the chair:-
(A chair brought in.)
Some good man bear him carefully from bence;
I'll fetch the general's surgeon. For you, mis
tress,

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 of.) Stay you, good gentlemen:-Look you pale, mis(To Bianca)

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 ber;
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?

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

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

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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:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me :-but once put out thine,
Thoa cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd

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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; No,-Heaven forefend!-I would not kill thy soul. Des. Talk you of killing?

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Ay, I do.

Then, heaven

Amen, with all my heart! Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. Oth. Humph!

Des. And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then, When your eyes roll so: Why I should fear, I

know not,

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Oth. Ay. Des. Oth.

He'll not say so.

No, his mouth is stopp'd:

Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.
[dead?
Des. My fear interprets then,-What, is he
Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.

Des. Alas! he is betray'd, and I undone.
Oth. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to

my face?

Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not. Oth. Down, strumpet!

Des. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night. Oth. Nay, if you strive,—

Des.

Oth.

There is no pause.

But half an hour.

Being done,

Des.

But while I say one prayer.

Oth. It is too late.

(He smothers her.)

Emil. (Within.) My lord! my lord! what ho!

my lord! my lord!

[quite dead? Oth. What noise is this?-Not dead! not yet I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;

I would not have thee linger in thy pain.—
So, so.

Emil. (Within.) What ho! my lord, my lord!
Oth.
Who's there?
Emil. (Within.) O, good my lord, I would speak
a word with you.

Oth. Yes;-'tis Emilia :-by and by.-She's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death;
The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't good?
I think, she stirs again :-No.-What's the best?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
My wife! my wife! what wife?—I have no wife :
O, insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.
[with you,
Emil. (Within.) I do beseech you, I may speak
O, good my lord!

Öth. I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia :Soft,-by and by:-Let me the curtains draw. Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now? (Unlocks the door.)

Enter EMILIA.

Emil. O, good my lord, yonder's foul murder
Oth. What? now?
Emil.

But now, my lord!

Oth. It is the very error of the moon;

[done.

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Emil.

This deed?

Des.

O, who hath done
Nobody; I myself; farewell:

Commend me to my kind lord; O, farewell. (Dies.)
Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd?
Emil.
Alas, who knows?
Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I.
Emil. She said so; I must needs report the truth.
Oth. She's like a liar, gone to burning hell;
'Twas I that kill'd her.

Emil.

O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil!

Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. Oth. She was false as water. Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false; O, she was heavenly true! Oth. Cassio did tup her: ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity: Thy husband knew it all. Emil. My husband?

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Emil.

My husband?

Oth. What needs this iterance, woman? I say, thy husband. [love!

Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with My husband say, that she was false? Oth. He, woman; I say, thy husband: Dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Oth. Ha!

Emil. Do thy worst;
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.

Oth.
Peace, you were best.
Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me
harm,

As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed,-
I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives:-Help! help, ho! help!
The Moor has kill'd my mistress; Murder! murder!

Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and IAGO.
Mon. What is the matter?-How now, general?
Emil. O, are you come, Iago? you have done
well,

That men must lay their murders on your neck.
Gra. What is the matter?

Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false:
I know, thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain;
Speak, for my heart is full.
[more
Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false?
Iago. I did.

Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie:

She false with Cassio!-Did you say with Cassio? Iago. With Cassio, mistress: Go to, charm your tongue. [to speak;

Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed. All. O heavens forefend!

Emil. And your reports have set the murder .
Oth. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.
Gra. "Tis a strange truth.

Mon. O monstrous act!
Emil.

Villany, villany, villany!— I think upon't,-I think,-I smell't;-O villanyI thought so then;-I'll kill myself for grief.— O villany, villany!

Iago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

[speak: Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now :— Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

Oth. O! O! O! (Hanging over his wife) Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar, For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, That e'er did lift up eye. Oth.

O, she was foul!

(Rising.) I scarce did know you, uncle: There lies yar niece, [stepp's Whose breath, indeed, these hands have Demy I know, this act shews horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy fathers
dead;

Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain: did he live DOW,
This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
Yea, curse bis better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.

Oth. "Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio hatli the act of shame
A thousand times committed: Cassio confess'd it:
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers!
Iago.
Come, hold your peace.
Emil. Twill out, 'twill out;-I hold my pesce,
sir? no;

No, I will speak as liberal as the air;

Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
lago. Be wise, and get you home.
Emil.

Gra.

I will not. (Iago offers to stab his wife)

Your sword upon a woman?

Emil, O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief the speak'st of,

Iago.

I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,)
He begg'd of me to steal it.
Villanous whore!
Emil, She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it,
And I did give't my husband,
Iago.
Filth, thon liest.
Emil. By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen
O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife?

[Iago stabs Emilia, then runs out.
Oth.
Are there no stones in heaven.
But what serve for the thunder?-Precious villain!
Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his

wife.

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Re-enter GRATIANO.

Gra. What is the matter?
Oth.

Behold! I have a weapon;
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop:-But, Ở vain boast!
Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.-
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires;-Where should Othello go?-
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd

wench!

Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity.-

O cursed, cursed slave!-Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!-
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?
Dead? O! O! O!

Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, CASSIO, carried in a
chair, and Officers, with IAGO, prisoner.
Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate
man?

Oth. That's he, that was Othello; here I am.
Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
Oth. I look down towards his feet;-but that's
a fable:

If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
(Othello wounds Iago.)
Lod. Wrench his sword from him.
Lago.
I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.
Oth. I am not sorry neither; I'd have thee live;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. O thon Othello, that was once so good,
Fall'n in the practice of a cursed slave,
What shall be said to thee?

Oth.

Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will; For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

Oth. Ay.

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray you, demand that demi-devil,
Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body?
Iago. Demand me nothing: What you know,
you know:

From this time forth I never will speak word.
Lod. What? not to pray?

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Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross! Lod. Now here's another discontented paper, Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; But that, belike, Iago in the interim Came in and satisfied him.

Oth.
O the pernicious caitiff!-
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?

Cas.
And he himself confess'd, but even now,
I found it in my chamber:
That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his desire.

Oth.
O fool! fool! fool!
Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,-
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was cast: And even but now he spake,
After long seeming dead,-Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.

Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us; Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,If there be any cunning cruelty,

It shall be his: You shall close prisoner rest, That can torment him much, and hold him long, To the Venetian state :-Come, bring him away. Till that the nature of your fault be known

Oth. Soft you; a word or two, before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know it; No more of that:-I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well; Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand, Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away, Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum: Set you down this: And say, besides,-that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him—thus.

Lod. O bloody period!

(Stabs himself.)

Gra. All, that's spoke, is marr'd. Oth. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee:-No way but this, (Falling upon Desdemona.) Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. (Dies.) Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;

For he was great of heart.

Lod. O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! Look on the tragic loading of this bed; (To Iago.) This is thy work: the object poisons sight;Let it be hid.-Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed to you.-To you, lord governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain; The time, the place, the torture,-O enforce it! Myself will straight aboard; and, to the state, This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt.

SUMMARY REMARKS

BY JOHNSON AND STEEVENS.

plays completed his own idea, seems not to here been able to give Falstaff all his former power di entertainment.

THE TEMPEST.-It is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is regular; this the author of The Revisal thinks, what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, not intended or regarded by our This comedy is remarkable for the variety and author. But, whatever might be Shakspeare's in- number of the personages, who exhibit more chatention in forming or adopting the plot, he has made racters appropriated and discriminated, than per it instrumental to the production of many cha-haps can be found in any other play. racters, diversified with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly goblin; the operations of magic, the tumults of a storm, the adventures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happiness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested. JOHNSON.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.-In this play there is a strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance, of care and negligence. The versification is often excellent, the allusions are learned and just; but the author conveys his heroes by sea from one inland town to another in the same country; he places the emperor at Milan, and sends his young men to attend him, but never mentions him more; he makes Proteus, after an interview with Silvia, say he has only seen her picture: and, if we may credit the old copies, he has, by mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable. The reason of all this confusion seems to be, that he took his story from a novel, which he sometimes followed, and sometimes forsook; sometimes remembered, and sometimes forgot.

That this play is rightly attributed to Shakspeare, I have little doubt. If it be taken from him, to whom shall it be given? This question may be asked of all the disputed plays, except Titus Andronicus; and it will be found more credible, that Shakspeare might sometimes sink below his highest flights, than that any other should rise up to his lowest.

JOHNSON.

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.-Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, that it was written at the command of Queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff, that she wished it to be diffused through more plays; but suspecting that it might pall by continued uniformity, directed the poet to diversify his manner, by shewing him in love. No task is harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the queen, if the story be true, seems not to have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff must have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast would have remained. Falstaff could not love, but by ceasing to be Falstaff. He could only counterfeit love, and his professions could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, but of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he could to the work enjoined him; yet having perhaps in the former

Whether Shakspeare was the first that produced upon the English stage the effect of language ds. torted and depraved by provincial or foreign prenunciation I cannot certainly decide. This mode of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise only on him who originally discovered it, for it requires not much of either wit or judgment; its suecess must be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a skilful mouth, even he that de spises it, is unable to resist.

The conduct of this drama is deficient; the action begins and ends often, before the conclusion, and the different parts might change places without inconvenience; but its general power, that power by which all works of genius shall finally be tried. is such, that perhaps it never yet bad reader er spectator who did not think it too soon at the end. JOHNSON.

TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL.-This play is in the graver part elegant and easy, and in some of the lighter scenes exqu sitely humorous. Ague-cheek is drawn with great propriety, but his character is, in a great measure. that of natural fatuity, and is therefore not the proper prey of a satirist. The soliloquy of Maivelis is truly comic; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by his pride. The marriage of Olivia, and the seeceeding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fals to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no just picture of life.

JOHNSON.

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.-The novel of Giraldi Cinthio, from which Shakspeare is supposed to have borrowed this fable, may be read in Shak speare Illustrated, elegantly translated, with remarks which will assist the inquirer to discover how much absurdity Shakspeare has admitted ar avoided.

I cannot but suspect that some other had sermodelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a story which in some particulars resembled it, and that Cinthio was not the author whom Shakspeare inmediately followed. The emperor in Cinthio is named Maximine: the duke, in Shakspeare's ennmeration of the persons of the drama, is called Vincentio. This appears a very slight remark; bat since the duke has no name in the play, nor is ever mentioned but by his title, why should he be called Vincentio among the persons, but because the name was copied from the story, and placed superfluously at the head of the list, by the mere habit of trascription? It is therefore likely that there was thea a story of Vincentio duke of Vienna, different from that of Maximine emperor of the Romans.

Of this play, the light or comic part is very na

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