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Thy bed, luft-ftain'd, fhall with luft's blood be

fpotted.

[Exit Othello.

Enter Lodovico, and Gratiano, at a distance.

Caf. What, ho! no watch? "no paffage ? mur

der! murder!

Gra. 'Tis fome mifchance; the cry

ful.

Caf. O, help!

Lod. Hark!

Rod. O wretched villian !

is very dire

Lod. Two or three groans;-it is a heavy night: Thefe 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's one comes in his fhirt, with light and weapons.

Iago. Who's there? whose noise is this, that cries out murder?

Mr. Henley had alfo made the fame obfervation, and in proof of it produced the following paffages. Richard III.

Again,

"I clothe my naked villany
"With old odd ends, ftol'n forth of holy writ."

"Humphrey Hoare that called upon your grace,
"To breakfast once forth of my company."

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EDITOR.

9-no paffage ?] No paffengers ? nobody going by?

So, in the Comedy of Errors:

JOHNSON.

"Now in the stirring paffage of the day." STEEVENS. -a heavy night;] A thick cloudy night, in which an ambush may be commodioufly laid. JOHNSON.

So, in Measure for Measure:

"Upon the heavy middle of the night." STEEVENS.

Lod. We do not know.

Jago. Did 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.
Jago. What are you here, that cry fo grievously?
Caf. Iago? O, I am fpoil'd, undone by villains!
Give me fome help.

lago. O 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.

Rod. O, help me here!

Caf. That's one of them.

[To Lod. and Gra.

Jago. O murderous flave ! O villain!

[Iago ftabs him. Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!—O!

O, O !

Iago. Kill men i' the dark!-Where be the fe 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, praife us.

Iago. Signior Lodovico ?

Lod. He, fir.

Iago. I cry you mercy; Here's Caffio hurt by

villains.

Gra. Caffio!

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Iago. How is it, brother?

Caf. My leg is cut in two.
Iago. Marry, heaven forbid!

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

VOL. X.

3.A

Enter

Enter Bianca.

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

Bian. O my dear Caffio! my fweet Caffio!

O Caffio! Caffio! Caffio !

Iago. O notable ftrumpet!-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.-O, for a chair, To bear him eafily hence !

Bian. Alas, he faints :-O 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;-O heaven! Roderigo.
Gra. What, of Venice?

Iago. Even he, fir; did you know him?
Gra. Know him? ay.

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon; Thefe bloody accidents must excuse my manners, That fo neglected you.

Gra. I am glad to fee you.

Jago. How do you, Caffio ?-O, a chair, a chair!
Gra. Roderigo!

2 Lend me a garter, &c.] This fpeech is omitted in the first quarto. STEEVENS.

3 Alas my friend, my dear countryman!] This paffage incontestably proves that lago was meant for a Venetian.

N. B. All the notes to which no names are fubscribed, are taken from the laft Oxford edition. STEEVENS.

Iago. He, he, 'tis he :-O, that's well faid :the chair :[A chair brought in. 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 lain 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 ?-O, bear him out o' the air.- [Caffio is borne off. Stay you, good gentlemen --look you pale, mif

trefs?

Do you perceive the gaftnefs 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 ufe.

Enter Emilia.

Emil. 'Las, what's the matter? what's the mat-
ter, husband?

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

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas good Caffio!
Jago. This is the fruit of whoring.-Pr'ythee,
Emilia,

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

4-good gentlemen.] Thus the folio. The quartos read, gentlewoman. STEEVENS.

5-the gaftness,] So the folio. The quartos read, jefiures.

STEEVENS.

Nav, if you fare,] So the folio. The quartos read, firre.

STEEVENS.

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Bian. He fupp'd at my houfe; but I therefore fhake not.

Iago. O, did he fo? I charge you, go with me. Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, ftrumpet !

Bian. I am no ftrumpet; but of life as honeft, As you that thus abufe me.

Emil. As I? foh! fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Caffio 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, I pray ?--This is the night, [Afide.
That either makes me, or fordoes? me quite.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A bed-chamber: Defdemona in bed, afleep.

burning.

Enter Othello.

A light

Oth. It is the caufe, it is the cause, my foul,Let me not name it to you, you chafte ftars!

7

or fordoes me quite.] To fordo, is to undo, to ruin, to deftroy. See vol. iii. p. 132. STEEVENS.

It is the caufe, it is the cafe, 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 refolution to do juftice? Is it the dread of fhedding blood? No; it is not the action that fhocks me, but it is the caufe, it is the caufe, my foul; let me not name it to you, ye chafte ftars! 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 fecking his juftification, from reprefenting to himself the cause, i. e. the greatness of the provocation he had received. STEVENS.

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