# Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedie of Othello, the Moore of Venice/Act 5 Scene 1

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.
Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke, Straight will he come: Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home: Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow, It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that, And fixe most firme thy Resolution.
Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't.
Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand.
Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed, And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies.
Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense, And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo, He calles me to a restitution large Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him, As Guifts to Desdemona. It must not be: If Cassio do remaine, He hath a dayly beauty in his life, That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill: No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming.
Enter Cassio.
Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest.
Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed, But that my Coate is better then thou know'st: I will make proofe of thine.
Rod. Oh, I am slaine.
Cassio. I am maym'd for euer: Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.
Enter Othello.
Oth. The voyce of Cassio, Iago keepes his word.
Rod. O Villaine that I am.
Oth. It is euen so.
Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon.
Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust, That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong, Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead, And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come: For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.Exit Othello.
Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.
Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage? Murther, Murther.
Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull.
Cas. Oh helpe.
Lodo. Hearke.
Rod. Oh wretched Villaine.
Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night; These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe To come into the cry, without more helpe.
Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death. Enter Iago.
Lod. Hearke.
Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and Weapons.
Iago. Who's there? Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?
Lodo. We do not know.
Iago. Do not you heare a cry?
Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me.
Iago. What's the matter?
Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it.
Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow.
Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously?
Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines: Giue me some helpe.
Iago. O mee, Lieutenant! What Villaines haue done this?
Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout.
And cannot make away.
Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines: What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe.
Rod. O helpe me there.
Cassio. That's one of them.
Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine!
Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge!
Iago. Kill men i'th'darke? Where be these bloody Theeues? How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther. What may you be? Are you of good, or euill?
Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs.
Iago. Signior Lodouico?
Lod. He Sir.
Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines.
Gra. Cassio?
Iago. How is't Brother?
Cas. My Legge is cut in two.
Iago. Marry heauen forbid: Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt.
Enter Bianca.
Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd?
Iago. Who is't that cry'd?
Bian. Oh my deere Cassio, My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.
Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you?
Cas. No.
Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus; I haue beene to seeke you.
Iago. Lend me a Garter. So:——— Oh for a Chaire To beare him easily hence.
Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, 'Cassio, Cassio.
Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash To be a party in this Iniurie. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no? Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo.
Gra. What, of Venice?
Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him?
Gra. Know him? I.
Iago. 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.
Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire.
Gra. Rodorigo?
Iago. He, he, 'tis he: Oh that's well said, the Chaire. Some good man beare him carefully from hence, Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris, Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio) Was my deere friend. What malice was between you?
Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man?
Iago. What? looke you pale? Oh beare him o'th'Ayre. Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris? Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon. Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her: Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake Though tongues were out of vse.
Æmil. Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter, Husband?
Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd: He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead.
Æmil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio.
Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe Æmilia, Go know of Cassio where he supt to night. What, do you shake at that?
Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not.
Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me.
Æmil. Oh fie vpon thee Strumpet.
Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest, As you that thus abuse me.
Æmil. As I? Fie vpon thee.
Iago. Kinde Gentlemen: Let's go see poore Cassio drest. Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale. Æmilia, run you to the Cittadell, 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 quight.Exeunt.
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