Cyprus. A street.
(Iago; Roderigo; Cassio; Othello; Lodovico; Gratiano; Bianca; Emilia)
Iago places Roderigo at the right spot to kill Cassio; which one of the two dies does not much matter to Iago, who needs to be rid of both of them. When Cassio appears, Roderigo misses him; Cassio fights back and wounds Roderigo, while Iago stabs Cassio in the leg from behind. Othello hears Cassio’s cries and is delighted, thinking he is dead. Lodovico and Gratiano arrive at the scene, wondering what has happened; Iago appears as if just woken, and in the dark stabs Roderigo to death. The confusion is great, and when Bianca arrives, Iago manages to pin the blame on her and orders her arrested on suspicion of having arranged the crime. He binds up Cassio’s wounds and sends him to a doctor. Emilia arrives to find out what all the noise is about, and Iago sends her to tell Othello and Desdemona what has happened. He realizes that things may or may not go well for him tonight. ( line)
Enter Iago and Roderigo.
Here, stand behind this bulk, straight will he come.
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home.
Quick, quick, fear nothing; I’ll be at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it mars us, think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
Be near at hand, I may miscarry in’t.
Here, at thy hand; be bold, and take thy stand.
I have no great devotion to the deed,
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons.
’Tis but a man gone. Forth my sword; he dies.
I have rubb’d this young quat almost to the sense,
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain. Live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobb’d from him
As gifts to Desdemona;
It must not be. If Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life
That makes me ugly; and besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril.
No, he must die. Be’t so. I hear him coming.
I know his gait, ’tis he.—Villain, thou diest!
Makes a pass at Cassio.
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know’st.
I will make proof of thine.
Draws, and wounds Roderigo.
O, I am slain.
Iago from behind wounds Cassio in the leg, and exit.
I am maim’d forever. Help ho! Murder, murder!
The voice of Cassio! Iago keeps his word.
O, villain that I am!
It is even so.
O, help ho! Light! A surgeon!
’Tis he!—O brave Iago, honest and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong!
Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead,
And your unblest fate hies. Strumpet, I come.
Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted;
Thy bed, lust-stain’d, shall with lust’s blood be spotted.
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano.
What ho! No watch? No passage? Murder, murder!
’Tis some mischance, the voice is very direful.
O wretched villin!
Two or three groan. ’Tis heavy night;
These may be counterfeits; let’s think’t unsafe
To come in to the cry without more help.
Nobody come? Then shall I bleed to death.
Enter Iago with a light.
Here’s one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons.
Who’s there? Whose noise is this that cries on murder?
We do not know.
Did not you hear a cry?
Here, here! For heaven sake help me!
What’s the matter?
This is Othello’s ancient, as I take it.
The same indeed, a very valiant fellow.
What are you here that cry so grievously?
Iago? O, I am spoil’d, undone by villains!
Give me some help.
O me, lieutenant! What villains have done this?
I think that one of them is hereabout,
And cannot make away.
O treacherous villains!
To Lodovico and Gratiano.
What are you there?
Come in, and give some help.
O, help me there!
That’s one of them.
O murd’rous slave! O villain!
O damn’d Iago! O inhuman dog!
Kill men i’ th’ dark?—Where be these bloody thieves?—
How silent is this town!—Ho, murder, murder!—
What may you be? Are you of good or evil?
As you shall prove us, praise us.
I cry you mercy. Here’s Cassio hurt by villains.
How is’t, brother?
My leg is cut in two.
Marry, heaven forbid!
Light, gentlemen! I’ll bind it with my shirt.
What is the matter ho? Who is’t that cried?
Who is’t that cried?
O my dear Cassio, my sweet Cassio!
O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be that have thus mangled you?
I am sorry to find you thus; I have been to seek you.
Lend me a garter. So.—O for a chair
To bear him easily hence!
Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio!
Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash
To be a party in this injury.—
Patience awhile, good Cassio.—Come, come;
Lend me a light. Know we this face or no?
Alas, my friend and my dear countryman
Roderigo! No—yes, sure—O heaven, Roderigo!
What, of Venice?
Even he, sir; did you know him?
Know him? Ay.
Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon;
These bloody accidents must excuse my manners
That so neglected you.
I am glad to see you.
How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair!
He, he,’tis he.
A chair brought in.
O, that’s well said: the chair.
Some good man bear him carefully from hence,
I’ll fetch the general’s surgeon.
For you, mistress,
Save you your labor.—He that lies slain here, Cassio,
Was my dear friend. What malice was between you?
None in the world; nor do I know the man.
What? Look you pale?—O, bear him out o’ th’ air.
Cassio and Roderigo are borne off.
Stay you, good gentlemen.—Look you pale, mistress?—
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?—
Nay, an’ 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.
Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter, husband?
Cassio hath here been set on in the dark
By Roderigo and fellows that are scap’d.
He’s almost slain, and Roderigo quite dead.
Alas, good gentleman! Alas, good Cassio!
This is the fruits of whoring. Prithee, Emilia,
Go know of Cassio where he supp’d tonight.
What, do you shake at that?
He supp’d at my house, but I therefore shake not.
O, did he so? I charge you go with me.
O fie upon thee, strumpet!
I am no strumpet, but of life as honest
As you that thus abuse me.
As I? Fough, fie upon thee!
Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d.
Come, mistress, you must tell ’s another tale.
Emilia, run you to the citadel,
And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d.—
Will you go on afore?
This is the night
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.