Emil. O who has done This deed? Des. Nobody; I myself; farewell! Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd? [She dies. Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I. Emil. O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil! Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false; O, she was heavenly true! Cas. Thy husband. Emil. That she was false to wedlock? Oth. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If Heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it. Emil. My husband !- Oth. What needs this iteration, woman? I say, thy husband ;-Dost understand the word ?- Emil. Do thy worst: This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven, Oth. Peace, you were best ; Emil. Thou hast not half that power to do me harm, As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed,— der! my Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and IAGO. Mont. What is the matter? Emil. My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed.— He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false; Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no more Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie: She false with Cassio! Did you say, with Cassio? Iago. With Cassio, mistress. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak; 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now : Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. Oth. O! OTO! [Falling on the Bed. Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar; For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent That e'er did lift up eye. Oth. O, she was foul! [Rising. I scarce did know you, uncle : There lies your niece; Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: I know this act shows terrible and grim. Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Oth. 'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows, With the recognizance and pledge of love Emil. O Heaven! O heavenly powers! I found by fortune, and did give my husband; (More than, indeed, belong❜d to such a trifle,) Tago. Filth, thou liest. Emil. By Heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen.O murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool Do with so good a wife? Oth. Are there no stones in heaven, But what serve for the thunder ?-Precious villain! [OTHELLO makes a pass at IAGO, MONTANO disarms him,-IAGO, at the same time, stabs EMILIA, and runs out. Mont. Take you this weapon, Which I have here recover'd from the Moor: [Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIano. Oth. I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword:- Emil. Moor, she was chaste: she lov'd thee, cruel So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; [She dies. Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber, It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper; [Goes for the Sword, and returns. O, here it is;-Uncle, I must come forth. Gra. [Without.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. Enter GRATIANO. Behold! I have a weapon: A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I've seen the day, Now, how dost thou look now?-O ill-starr'd wench! From the possession of this heavenly sight! O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead ?-O, O, 0!— [Falls down by her. Enter LODOVICO, CASSIO, brought in by ANTONIO and JULIO, MONTANO, IAGO, prisoner, MARCO, and PAULO. Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? Oth. That's he, that was Othello ;-Here I am. Lod. Where is this viper? bring the villain forth. Oth. I look down towards his feet;-but that's a fable; If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. [OTHELLO wounds IAGO, and MONTANO disarms him. Iago. I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. Oth. I am not sorry neither; I'd have thee live; For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. Lod. O thou, Othello, that wast once so good, Oth. Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will: Oth. Ay. Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil, Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body? Iago. Demand me nothing: What you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word. Oth. Well, thou dost best. Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not:—Here's a letter, Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; And here, another: the one of them imports |