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OTHELLO
O! O! O!
He falls on the bed
EMILIA
Nay, lay thee down and roar;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye.
OTHELLO
[Rising] O, she was foul!
I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
I know this act shows horrible and grim.
GRATIANO
Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead:
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,
This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.
OTHELLO
'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.
EMILIA
O heaven! O heavenly powers!
IAGO
Come, hold your peace.
EMILIA
'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace!
No, I will speak as liberal as the north:
Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
IAGO
Be wise, and get you home.
EMILIA
I will not.
IAGO offers to stab EMILIA
GRATIANO
Fie!
Your sword upon a woman?
EMILIA
O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
I found by fortune and did give my husband;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
He begg'd of me to steal it.
IAGO
Villanous whore!
EMILIA
She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it,
And I did give't my husband.
IAGO
Filth, thou liest!
EMILIA
By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a woman?
OTHELLO
Are there no stones in heaven
But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain!
He runs at IAGO IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit
GRATIANO
The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.
EMILIA
Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side.
GRATIANO
He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.
MONTANO
'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
For 'tis a damned slave.
Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO
OTHELLO
I am not valiant neither,
But ever puny whipster gets my sword:
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.
EMILIA
What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
And die in music.
[Singing] Willow, willow, willow,--
Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die, I die.
Dies
OTHELLO
I have another weapon in this chamber;
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:--
O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.
GRATIANO
[Within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear:
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
OTHELLO
Look in upon me then and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
Re-enter GRATIANO
GRATIANO
What is the matter?
OTHELLO
Behold, I have a weapon;
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast!
Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair, and Officers with IAGO, prisoner
LODOVICO
Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
OTHELLO
That's he that was Othello: here I am.
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