Oh, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon juft grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
Emil. My husband!

Oth. Thy hufband.

Emil. That fhe was falfe to wedlock?

Oth. Ay, with Caffio. Had she been true,
If Heav'n would make me fuch another world,'
Of one entire and perfect chryfolite,

I'd not have fold her for it.

Emil. My husband!

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me firft: An honest man he is, and hates the flime That fticks on filthy deeds.

Emil. My husband!

Oth. What needs this iteration, woman'?

I fay, thy husband.

Emil. Oh mistress! villainy has made mocks with My husband fay she was falfe!

Oth. He, woman;

I fay, thy husband; doft understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honeft, honeft lago.

Emil. If he fay fo, my his pernicious foul
Rot half a grain a-day he lyes to th' heart.
She was too fond of her moft filthy bargain.
Oth. Hah!.

Emil. Do thy worft:

This deed of thine is no more worthy heav'n,

Than thou waft worthy her:

Oth Peace, you were best.

1.

[love:

Emil. Thou haft not half that power* to do me

As I have to be hurt. Oh gull! oh dolt!

As ignorant as dirt! thou't done a deed

[harm;

I care not for thy fword, I'll make thee known, Though I loft twenty lives--Help! help, hoa!

help!

The Moor hath kill'd my mistress. Murther, murther! :

power, will, inclination..

À a 2

SCENE

Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others.

Mon. What is the matter? how now, General ? Emil. Oh, are you come, Iago? you have done well, That men must lay their murthers on your neck. Gra. What is the matter?

Emil. Difprove this villain, if thou be'st a man ; He fays, thou told'st him that his wife was false : I know thou didst not; thour't not fuch a villain. Speak, for my heart is full.

Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no more, Than what he found himself was apt and true.

Emil. But did you ever tell him she was false ?
Iago. I did.

Emil. You told a lye; an odious, damned lye :
Upon my foul, a lye; a wicked lye.

She falfe with Caffio? did you fay, with Caffio ? Iago. With Caflio, Miftrefs; go to, charm your tongue.

Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound to speak;

My mistress lies here murther'd in her bed. *

Iago. 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. Oh! oh! oh! [Othello falls on the bed.
Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar:

For thou haft kill'd the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye

*

murthered in her bed.

All. Oh Heavens forefend !

Emil. And your reports have fet the murther on.
Oth. Nay, ftare not, mafters; it is true indeed.

Gra. "Tis a strange truth.

Mon. Oh monstrous act!

Emil. Villany! villany! villany!

I think upon't

-I think

I fmell't.

-Oh villany!

I thought fo then; I'll kill myself for grief;

Oh villany, villany!

Lago, What, are you mad? &c.

Oth. Oh, fhe was foul!

[Rifing. I fcarce did know you uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopp'd; I know, this act fhews horrible and grim.

Gra: Poor Desdemona! I'm 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 fight would make him do a defp'rate turn;
Yea, curfe his better angel from his fide,
And fall to reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That he with Caffio had the act of thame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confefs'd it ;
And the did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognifance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her: I faw it in his hand;
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. Oh Heav'n! oh heav'nly powers!
Iago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. Twill out, 'twill out-Į peace!
No, I will speak as liberal as the air;

Let heav'n, and men, and devils, let them all.
All, all cry fhame against me, yet I'll speak.
Iago. Be wife, and get you home.

Emil. I will not.

[lago offers to ftab his wife.

Gra. Fie, your fword upon a woman

Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou

speak'ft of,

I found by fortune, and did give my husband;

For often, with a folemn earnestnefs,

(More than indeed belong'd to fuch a trifle,)

He begg'd of me to steal it.

lago. Villanous whore!

Hmil. She give it Caffio? alas, I found it,

And I did give't my husband.

Iago. Filth, thou lyeft.

Emil. By Heav'n, I do not; I do not, Gentlemen, Oh murd'rous coxcomb! what fhould fuch a fool Do with fo good a wife?

Iago breaks through, and wounds his wife, then runs out,

Oth. Are, there, no ftones in heav'n?

For what then ferves the thunder precious villain !! Gra. The woman falls; fure he has kill'd his wife, Emil. Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistrefs' fide! Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mont. 'Tis a notorious villain; take 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 fame villain, For 'tis a damned slave. [Exeunt Mon, and Gra.

SCENE

Oth." I am not valiant neither;

IV.

"But every puny whipster gets my fword.
"But why fhould Honour outlive Honesty?,
"Let it go all."

Emil. What did thy fong boad, Lady?
Hark, canft thou hear me I will play the fwan,
And die in mufic; Willow, Willow, Willow--
Moor, fhe was chafte; the lov'd thee, cruel Moor;
So come my foul to bliss, as I speak true;
So fpeaking as I think, alas, I die.

[Æmilia dies.
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,
It was a fword of Spain, the Ebro's temper *;
Oh, here it is: uncle, I must come forth.

Gra [within.] if thou attempt it, it will coft thee dear Thou haft no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

Oth Look in upon me then, and speak with me; Or, naked as I am, I will affault thee,

Reenter Gratiano.

Gra. What is the matter?

Oth. Lo! I have a weapon:

A better never did ittelf fustain

Upon a foldier's thigh I've seen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good fword,

In the first edition it is, Ife brock's temper. Thence corrupted to Ice rock's Ebro's temper; the waters of that river of Spain are particularly famous for tempering of teel. The finest arms in the world are the Catalonian fufees.

But, oh vain boast ! 'tis not fo now.

I've made my way thro' more impediments,
Than twenty times your ftop.
Who can controul his fate
Be not afraid, tho' you do fee me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
The very fea-mark of my utmost fail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a loft fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires. Where fhould Othello go?

Now-how dost thou look now? oh ill-ftarr'd wench!
Pale as thy fmock! When we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my foul from heav'n,
And fiends will fnatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl.
Ev'n like thy chastity. O curfed flave!

Whip me, ye devils,

From the poffeffion of this heav'nly fight;
Blow me about in winds, roast me in fulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulphs of liquid fire

Oh Desdemona! Defdemona! dead, dead! oh, oh!

Enter Lodovico, Caffio led in wounded, Montano, and Iago prifoner, with Officers..

Lod. Where is this rafh and most unfortunate man? Oth That's he that was Othello: here I am. Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. Oth. I look down tow'rds his feet; but that's a fable. If that thou beeft a devil, I cannot kill thee.

[Othello wounds Iago.

Lod. Wrench his fword from him.

Iago. I bleed, Sir, but not kill'd.

Oth. I am not forry neither: I'd have thee live ; For, in my fenfe, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. Oh thou, Othello, that was once fo good, i Fall'n in the practice of a cursed slave,

What thall be faid to thee?

Oth. Why, any thing;

An honourable murth'rer, if you will;
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour

Lod. This wretch hath part confefs'd his villany. ›

Did you and he confent in Caffio's death 2

Oth.