Puslapio vaizdai
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Enter Othello, above at a Window.

Oth. The Voice of Caffio, Jago keeps his word.
Rod. O Villain that I am!

Oth. It is even fo.

Caf. Oh help ho! Light! A Surgeon!

Oth. 'Tis he! O brave Jago, honeft and juft, That haft fuch noble Senfe of thy Friend's Wrong, Thou teacheft me. Minion, your Dear lies dead, And your unbleft Fate highes. Strumpet I come: For off my Heart, thofe Charms thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed luft-ftain'd, shall with Luft's blood be spotted. [Exit Othello.

Enter Lodovico, and Gratiano. Caf. What ho! No Watch? No Paffage? Murther, Mur. ther!

Gra.'Tis fome Mifchance, the Voice is very direful.
Caf. Oh help!

Lod. Hark!

Rod. Oh wretched Villain!

Lod. Two or three groan. 'Tis heavy Night;
These may be Counterfeits: Let's think't unsafe
To come into the Cry, without more help.
Red. No body come: Then fhall I bleed to death.
Enter Jago, in his Shirt.

Lod. Hark.

Gra. Here's one comes in his Shirt, with Light, and Weapons.

Jago. Who's there?

Whofe Noise is this that cries out Murther?

Lod. We do not know.

Jago. Do not you hear a Cry?

Caf. Here, here: For Heav'n fake help me.

Jago. What's the matter?

Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it.

Lod. The fame indeed, a very valiant Fellow. Jago. What are you here, that cry fo grievously? Caf. Jago? Oh I am fpoil'd, undone by Villains? Give me fome Help.

Jago. O me, Lieutenant!

What Villains have done this?

VOL. V.

Caf

Caf. I think that one of them is hereabout, And cannot make away.

Jago. Oh treacherous Villains!

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

Caf. That's one of them.

Fago. Oh murd'rous Slave! O Villain! [Jago ftabs him,
Rod. O damn'd Jago! O inhuman Dag!

Jago. Kill Men i'th dark? Where be thefe bloody

Thieves?

How filent is this Town? Ho, Murther! Murther!

What may you be? Are you of Good or Evil?
Lod. As you fhall prove us, praife us.
Jago. Signior Lodovico.

Lod. He, Sir.

Jago, Icry you mercy! here's Caffio hurt by Villains.
Gra. Caffio?

Jago. How is't, Brother?

Caf. My Leg is cut in two.
Fago. Marry Heav'n forbid:

Light Gentlemen, I'll bind it with my Shirt.

Enter Bianca.

Bian. What is the Matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd?
Jago. Who is't that cry'd?

Bian. Oh my dear Caffio,

My fweet Caffio: Oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio.

Fago. O notable Strumpet. Caffio, may you fufpe& 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.

Fago. Lend me a Garter. So-Oh for a Chair To bear him eafily hence.

Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Caffio, Caffio, Caffio..
Jago. 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 Country-man ›
Rodorigo? No: Yes fure: Yea, 'tis Rederige...
Gre. What, of Venice? $

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

Gra. Know him? Ah!

Fago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle Pardon : Thefe bloody Accidents muft excufe my Manners, That fo neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to see you.

Jago. How do you, Caffio? Oha Chair, a Chair.
Gra. Roderigo?

Fago. 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 Surgeon. For you, Mistress,
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.
Fago. What look you pale? Oh bear him out o'th' Air.
Stay you good Gentlemen. Look you pale, Miftrefs?
Do you perceive the Gaftness 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 use.

Enter Emilia.

Emil. Alas, what is the Matter?
What is the Matter, Husband?

Jago. Caffio hath here been fet on in the Dark
By Rodorigo, and Fellows that are 'fcap'd:
He's almost flain, and Rodorigo quite dead.

Emil. Alas, good Gentleman! Alas, good Caffio!
Jago. That is the fruits of whoring. Prithee Æmilia,
Go know of Caffio where he fupt to Night.

What do you shake at that?

Bian. He fupt at my Houfe, but I therefore shake not: Jago. O did he fo? I charge you go with me.

Emil. Oh fie upon thee, Strumpet.

Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of Life as honeft,

As you that thus abuse me.

Emil. As I Fie upon thee,

Jago. Kind Gentlemen: Let's go fee poor Caffio dreft.

002

Come

Come Mistress, you must tell's another Tale.
Emilia, run you to the Cittadel,

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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Bed-chamber: Desdemona is difcover'd afleep in her Bed.

Enter Othello.

Oth. It is the Caufe, it is the Caufe, my Soul,
Let me not name it to you, you chafte Stars,
It is the Cause. Yet I'll not shed her Blood,
Nor fcar that whiter Skin of hers than Snow,
And fmooth as Monumental Alabafter:
Yet fhe muft die, elfe fhe'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 reftore,

Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light,
Thou cunning'ft Pattern of excelling Nature,

I know not where is that Promethean Heat

That can thy Light re-lumine.

When I have pluck'd thy Rofe,

I cannot give it vital Growth again,

It needs must wither. I'll fmell thee on the Tree; [Kiffing her.
O balmy Breath, that doft almoft perfwade

Juftice to break her Sword. One more, one more;
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after. One more, and that's the laft.
So fweet, was ne'er fo fatal. I muft weep,

But they are cruel Tears: This Sorrow's heav'nly
It strikes, 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 pray'd to Night, Desdemona?
Def. Ay, my Lord.

Oth.

Oth. If you bethink your felf of any Crime Unreconcil'd as yet to Heav'n, and Grace, Solicit for it ftraight.

Def. Alack, 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, Heav'ns fore-fend, I would not kill thy Soul.
Def. Talk you of killing?

Oth. Ay, I do.

Def. Then Heav'n 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 Guiltinefs I know not: But yet I feel I fear.
Oth. Think on thy Sins.

Def. They are Loves I bear to you.
Oth. Ay, and for that thou dy'ft.

Def. That Death's unnatural, that kills for Loving.
Alas, why gnaw you fo your Nether-lip?
Some bloody Paffion shakes your very Frame;
These 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?
Oth. That Handkerchief

Which I fo lov'd, and gave thee, thou gav'ft Caffio.
Def. No by my Life and Soul: Send for the Man,
And ask him.

Oth. Sweet Soul, take heed, take heed of Perjury,
Thou art on thy Death-bed.

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Def. Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth. Prefently.

Therefore confefs thee freely of thy Sin:

For to deny each Article with Oath,

Cannot remove, nor choak the ftrong Conception

That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

003

Def.

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