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Or Caffio him, or each to kill the other,
Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,
Of gold and jewels, that I bob'd from him,
It must not be.If Caffio do remain,
That makes me ugly; and, befides, the Moor
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'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. Help, hoa! murder, murder!
colnshire and Lancashire; which took its name, as Cambden fays, 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 ferfe, but that a man grofsly deceived is often
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 smart, 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 Caffo,-Taga keeps his word.
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 sense of thy friend's wrong; Thou teachest 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-stain'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!
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.
-a heavy night;] A thick cloudy night, in which an ambush may be commodiously laid. Gg 2
1No paffage ?] No paffengers ? No body going
Gra. Here one comes in his fhirt with light and
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.
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 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.
Iago. O treacherous villains!
What are you there? Come in, and give fome help. [To Lod. and Gra,
Rod. Oh, help me there.
Caf. That's one of them.
[Iago ftabs bim. Rod. Oh damn'd Iago! oh inhuman dog! Iago. Kill men i'th dark? Where be these bloody thieves?
How filent is this town? ho, murder! murder!
Lod. He, Sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy! Here's Caffio, hurt by villains.
Iago. How is't, brother?
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid !
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 fhould be, that have thus mangled you? Caf. No.
Gra. I'm forry to find you thus:
So-Ob for a chair
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 you know him?
lago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon. These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That so neglected you.
Gra. I am glad to see you.
Tago. How do you, Caffio? Oh, a chair, a chair. Gra. Roderigo?
Iago. He, he, 'tis he.
Oh, that's well faid. The
Some good man bear him carefully from hence;
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
Emil. Alas, what is the matter?
What is the matter, husband ?
Iago. Caffio hath there been fet on in the dark
Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Caffio!
Bian. He fupt at my houfe, but I therefore fhake
Iago. Oh, did he fo? I charge you go with me.
Bian. I am no ftrumpet, but of life as honeft
Emil. As I? fy upon thee!
Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's fee poor Caffio dreft, Come, miftrefs, you muft tell's another tale.