to-night; for she shall not live: No, my heart is turned to stone: I strike it, and it hurts

my

hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.

Iago. Nay, that's not your way.

Oth. Hang her; I do but say what she is: So delicate with her needle!-an admirable musician! 0, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!

lago. She's the worse for all this.

Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times:-And then, of so gentle a condition* !

Iago. Ay, too gentle.

Oth. Nay, that's certain : But yet the pity of it, lago!—0, Iago, the pity of it, Iago.

HIS CONFIRMED JEALOUSY.
Oth. Mistress,
Des.

My lord ?
Oth.

What would you with her, sir? Lod. Who, I, my lord?

[turn: Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; And she's obedient, as you say,-obedient,Very obedient;--Proceed you in your tears.Concerning this, sir, - well painted passion! I am commanded home ;-Get you away; I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice;—Hence, avaunt!

[Exit DESDEMONA. Cassio shall have my place. And,-sir, to-night, I do entreat that we may sup together.

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.—Goats and monkeys!

[Exit.

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA.
Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im-
I understand a fury in your words, [port?
But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?
Des.

Your wife, my lord; your true
And loyal wife.
Oth.

Come, swear it, damn thyself; Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double Swear-thou art honest.

[damn'd, Des.

Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as hell.

[false? Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am I Oth. O Desdemona! away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day!—Why do you weep? Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord? If, haply, you my father do suspect, An instrument of this your calling back, Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him, Why, I have lost him too. Oth.

Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction; had he rain'd All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head; Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ; I should have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience: but (alas !) to make me A fixed figure, for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at

n10!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garn'd* up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads [there!
To knot and gender in !-turn thy complexion
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!
Des. I hope, my noble lord esteems me honest.

Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet, That the sense aches at thee.-'Would, thou hadst

ne'er been born! Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed ?

Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
Made to write whore upon? What committed!
Committed!—0 thou public commoner!
I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed !-
Impudent strumpet!
Des.

By heaven, you do me wrong.
Oth. Are not you a strumpet?
Des.

No, as I am a christian;
If to preserve this vessel for my lord,
From any other foul unlawful touch,
Be—not to be a strumpet, I am none.
Oth. What, not a wliore?

* Treasured up.

Des.

No, as I shall be sav'd.
Oth. Is it possible?
Des. O, heaven forgive us!

Oth. I cry you mercy, then;
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.

DESDEMONA'S FIDELITY. O good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him: for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will—though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much; And his unkindness may

defeat

my

life, But never taint my love.

ACT V.
OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA.
SCENE. A Bedchamber: DESDEMONA in Bed asleep.

A Light burning.
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.

[Takes off his Smord. 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 thine,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd

thy rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither :- I'll smell it on the tree.-

[Kissing her. O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword!-Onemore, one more. Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after:-One more, and this the last: So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly; It strikes, where it doth love.

HIS CONFUSION AFTER THE MURDER. Yes;—'tis Emelia :—by and by. She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death: The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving ? Still as the grave. Shall she come in! Were't good? I think, she stirs again:- No.- What's the best? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife: My wife! my wife! what wife?—I have no wife: 0, insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.