Bian.
What is the matter, hoa, who is't that cry'd?

Iago.
Who is't that cry'd?

Bian.
Oh my dear Cassio,
My sweet Cassio, oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio.

Iago.
O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect
Who they should be, that have thus mangled you?

Cas.
No.

Gra.
I'm sorry to find you thus:
I have been to seek you.

Iago.
Lend me a garter. So—Oh for a chair
To bear 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 Injury.

Patience a while, good Cassio; come, come:
Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no?
Alas, my friend, and my dear countryman
Rodorigo? no: Yes, sure: yea, 'tis Rodorigo.

Gra.
What, of Venice?

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

Gra.
Know him? ah!

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 chair, a chair.

Gra.
Rodorigo?

Iago.
He, he, 'tis he: oh, 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 labour. 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.
What, look you pale?—oh, bear him out o'th' air.
Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress?
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? [To Bianca.
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.

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