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Or Caffio him, or each to kill the other,
Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a reftitution 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; and, befides, 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 thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou know'ft.

I will make proof of thine.

[Fight. Iago cuts Caffio behind in the Leg, and exit. [Then Roderigo and Caffio fall.

Rod. Oh, I am flain.

Caf. I'm maim'd for ever. murder!

colnshire and Lancashire; which took its name, as Cambden says, from its being a delicious morfel with King Canute, who was likewife called Knout. This bird, being once taken, as Gefner tells us, is above all others tame and tractable. In this refpect it forts with Roderigo's character, an eafy, manageable, Cully. THEOB.

This is a paffage much contro. verted among the editors. Sir T. Hanmer reads Quab, a Gudgeon; not that a Gudgeon can be rubbed to much fenfe, but that a man grofsly deceived is often

Help, hoa! murder,

called a Gudgeon. Mr. Upton reads Quail, which he proves, by much learning to be a very choleric bird. Dr. Warburton retains Gnat, which is found in the early quarto. I have followed the text of the folio, and third and fourth quarto's.

A Quat in the midland counties is a pimple, which by rubbing is made to fmart, or is rubbed to fenfe. Roderigo is called a Quat by the fame mode of fpeech, as a low fellow is now termed in low language a Scab. To rub to the fenfe, is to rub to the quick.



Enter Othello above at a Windew.

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 haft fuch noble fenfe of thy friend's wrong; Thou teacheft me-Minion, your dear lies dead; And your fate hyes apace. Strumpet, I come :

Forth of my heart, thofe charms, thine eyes, are


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


Enter Ludovico and Gratiano, at a distance.

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


Gra. 'Tis fome mifchance; the voice is very direful. Caf. Oh help!

Lod. Hark!

Rod. O wretched villain!


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


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

Enter Iago, in his fhirt, with a Light and Sword.
Lod. Hark-

No paffage ?. -] No paffengers ? No body going by?

1-a heavy night;] A thick cloudy night, in which an ambush may be commodiously laid. Gg 2


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

Iago. Who's there? Whofe 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.
Iego. What are you here, that cry so grievously?
Caf. Iago? oh I'm fpoil'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.

Iago. O treacherous villains!

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

Rod. Oh, help me there.

Caf. That's one of them.

[To Lod. and Gra.

Iago. O murderous flave! oh villain!

[Lago ftabs bime:

Rod. Oh damn'd Iago! oh inhuman dog!

Iago. Kill men i' th' dark? Where be these bloody


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 Caffia, hurt by vil


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Iago. Marry, heaven forbid !

Light, gentlemen, I'll bind it with my fhirt.


Enter Bianca.


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

Bian. Oh my dear Caffio,

My fweet Caffio, oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio.

Iago. O notable ftrumpet! Caffio, may you fufpect Who they should be, that have thus mangled you? Caf. No.

Gra. I'm forry to find you thus:

I have been to feek you.

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Iago. Lend me a garter. So-Ob for a chair To bear him eafily bence.

Bian. Alas, he faints. Oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio!
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do fufpect this Trash,
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: yea, 'tis Roderigo.
Gra. What, of Venice?

Iago. Even he, Sir, did

Gra. Know him? ah!

you know him?

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon. These bloody accidents must excuse my manners,

That so 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. chair.

Oh, that's well faid. The


Gg 3

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' th' air.

Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gaftnefs of her eye?

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 use.


Enter Emilia.

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

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

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Caffio!
Iago. This is the fruit of whoring-Pray, Emilia,
Go know of Caffio where he fupt to-night,
What, do you fhake at that?

Bian. He fupt at my houfe, but I therefore fhake


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 honeft

As you that thus abuse me.

Emil. As I? fy upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's fee poor Caffio dreft,

Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale.

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