That so neglected you.

Gra.

I am glad to see you.

Iago. How do you, Cassio?—O, a chair, a chair! Gra. Roderigo!

the chair.

Iago. He, he, 'tis he :-O, that's well said :— [a chair brought in. Some good man bear him carefully from hence; I'll fetch the general's surgeon.-For you, mistress, [to Bianca. Save you your labor.-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 ?—O, bear him out o' the air.

[Cassio and Roderigo are borne off. Stay you, good gentlewoman.-Look you pale, mis

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 her:
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak,
Though tongues were out of use.

Enter EMILIA.

Emi. '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 scaped:

He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

Emi. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! 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?

Bian He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

Iago. O, did he so? I charge you, go with me. Emi. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet !

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

Emi.

As I foh! fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio

dress'd.

Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale.
Emilia, run you to the citadel,

And tell my lord and lady what has happ'd.—

Will you go on, I pray ?—This is the night, [aside.

That either makes me, or fordoes 1 me quite.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

A bedchamber: DESDEMONA in bed asleep: a ligh:

burning.

Enter OTHELllo.

Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul;

1 Undoes, ruins.

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.1
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent me: but once put out thine,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume: when I have pluck'd thy

rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again;

It needs must wither:-I'll smell it on the tree.

[kissing her.

O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice 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 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?

1 i. e. the light of life.