Imatges de pÓgina

Come Mistress, you must tell's another Tale.
Æmilia, run you to the Cittadel,
And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath hap'd :
Will you go on afore? This is the Night
That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.


SCENE II. A Bed-chamber: Desdemona

is discover'd asleep in her Bed.

Enter Othello.

Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause, my Soul,
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:
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more Men:
Put out the Light, and then put out the Light,
If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister,
I can again thy former Light restore,
Should I repent me.

But once put out thy Light,
Thou cunoing'st Pattern of excelling Nature,
I know not where is that Promethean Heat
That can thy Light re-lumine.
When I have pluck'd thy Rose,
I cannot give it vital Growth again,
It needs must wither. I'll smell thee on the Tree; (Killing her.
O balmy Breath, that doft almost perswade
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 that's the last.
So sweet, was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel Tears: This Sorrow's heav'nly
It strikes, where it doth love. She wakes.

Def. Who's there, Othello :
Oth. Ay, Desdemona.
Def. Will you come to Bed, my Lord ?
Oth. Have you pray'd to Night, Desdemona ?
Defi Ay, my Lord.


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Des. If

Oth. If you bethink your self of any Crime
Unreconcil'd as yet to Heav'n, and Grace,
Solicit for it straight.

Def. Alack, my Lord,
What may you mean by that?

Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared Spirit,
No, Heav'ns fore-fend, I would not kill thy Soul.

Def. Talk you of killing?
Oth. Ay, I do.
Des. Then Heav'n have Mercy on me.
Oth. Amen, with all my Heart.

you say so, I hope you will not kill me.
Oth. Hum.

Def. And yet I fear you: For you're fatal then,
When your Eyes rowl so.
Why I should fear I know not,
Since Guiltiness I know not: But yet I feel I fear.

Oth. Think on thy Sins.
Des. They are Loves I bear to you.
Oth. Ay, and for that thou dy'ft.
Def. That Death's unnatural, that kills for Loving.
Alas, why gnaw you


your Nether-lip?
Some bloody Palion shakes your very Frame;
These are Portents: But yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me.

Oth, Peace, and be still,
Des. I will so: What's the matter?

Oth. That Handkerchief
Which I so lov'd, and gave thee, thou gav'st Cassio.

Def. No by my Life and Soul: Send for the Man,
And ask him.

Oth. Sweet Soul, take heed, take heed of Perjury,
Thou art on thy Death-bed.

Deri Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth. Presently.
Therefore confess thee freely of thy Sin:
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remove, nor choak the strong Conception -
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

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Def. Oh Heav'n have Mercy on me.
Oth. I say, Amen.

Des. And have you Mercy too; I never did
Offend you in my Life ; never lov'd Cassio,
But with such general warranty of Heav'n,
As I might love. I never gave him Token.

Oth. By Heav'n I saw my Handkerchief in's Hand.
O perjur'd Woman! thou dost stone my Heart,
And makest me call, what I intend to do,
A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.
I saw the Handkerchief.

Des. He found it then;
I never gave it him ; fend for him hither,
Let him confess a Truth.

Oth. He hath confeft.
Def. What, my Lord ?
Oth. That he hath us'd thee.
Def. How? unlawfully?
Oth. Ay.
Des. He will not say so.

Oih. No, his Mouth is stopp'd ;
Honest Jago hath räen Order for’t.

Def. Oh, my fear interprets. What is he dead?

Oth. Had all his Hairsbeen Lives,my great Revenge
Had Stomach for them all.

Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone.
Oth. Out Strumpet ! weep'st thou for him to my face?
Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not.
Oth. Down, Strumpet.
Des. Kill me to morrow, let me live to night.
Oih. Nay, if you
Def. But half an Hour
Oih. "Being done, there is no Pause.
Def. But while I say one Prayer
Oth. It is too late.

[Smothers her.
Æmilia at the Door.

. My Lord, my Lord! What hoa ! My Lord, my Lord !

Oth. What Noise is this? not dead ? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel, am yet merciful,

you strive.

So, so.

I would not have thee linger in thy Pain.

Æmil. within.] What hoa ! my Lord, my Lord !
Oth. Who's there?

Æmil. Oh, my good Lord, I would speak a word with you.

Oth. Yes, 'tis Æmilia --- by and by --- she's dead,
'Tis like the comes to speak of Callio's Death ;
The noise was high. Hah, ko more moving >
Still as the Grave. Shall the come in? were't good?
I think she stirs again ---- No --- what's best to do?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my Wife;
My Wife! my Wife! what Wife? I have no Wife.
Oh insupportable! Oh heavy Hour !
Methinks it should be now a huge Eclipse
Of Sun and Moon, and that the affrighted Globe
Did yawn at Alteration

Amil. I do beseech you
That I may speak with you, Oh,good my Lord!

Oth. I had forgot thee; Oh come in, Æmilia.
Soft, by and by, let me the Curtains draw,
Where are thou? what's the matter with thee now?

Enter Æmilia. Æmil. Oh, my good Lord, yonder's foul Murthers done.

Oth. What? now?
Amil. But now, my Lord.

Oth. It is the very error of the Moon,
She comes more nearer Earth than she was wont,
And makes Men mad,

Æmil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd
A young Venetian, callid Rodorigo.

Oth. Rodorigo kill'd ? and Caffio kill'd?
Æmil. No, Caffio is not killid.

Oth. Not Casiokill'd? Then Murther's out of tune,
And sweet Revenge grows harsh.
Def. O falsely, falsely murdered.

Æmil. Alas! what cry is that?
Oth. That what ?

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Amil. Out, and alas, that was my Lady's Voice,
Help! help hoa ! help! Oh Lady speak again,
Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistress, speak.

Def. A guiltless Death I die.
Amil. Oh who hath done this Deed?

Def. No body, I my self, farewel;
Commend me to my kind Lord; oh farewel. [Dies,

Oth. Why, how should she be Murderd?
Æmil. Alas! who knows?
Oth. You hear her say her felf, it was not I.
Æmil. She said so, I must needs report the Truth.

Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning Hell, 'Twas I that kill'd her.

Æmil. Oh the more Angel she, and you the blacker
Orh. She turn'd to Folly, and she was a Whore.

Æmil., Thou do'st bely her, and thou art a Devil.
Oth. She was false as Water.

Æmil. Thou art rafh as Fire, to say
That she was false. Oh she was heav'nly true.

Oth. Caffio did top her; ask thy Husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in Hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this Extremity. Thy Husband knew it all.

Æmil. My Husband!
Oth. Thy Husband.
Æmil. That she was false to Wedlock?

Oth. Ay, with Caffio: Had the been true,
If Heav'n would make me such another World,
Of one entire and perfe& Chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.

Æmil. My Husband?

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first; An honest Man he is, and hates the Slime That sticks on filthy Deeds.

Æmil. My Husband?

Oth. What needs this Iterance, Woman? I say thy Husband.

Æmil. Oh Mistress! Villany has made mocks with Love:


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