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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 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; Go to, charm your

tongue. Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to

speak;
My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed.

All. O heavens forefend !
Emil. And your reports have set the murder on.
Oth. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.
Gra. 'Tis a strange truth.
Mon. O monstrous act!

Emil. Villainy, villainy, villainy !-
I think upon't,- I think, I smell’t ;-0 villainy !
I thought so then ;—I'll kill myself for grief.
O villainy, villainy !
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. O! O! O!

[Hanging over his wife. 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 horrible and grim.

Gra. 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.

Oth. '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.

Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers !
Iago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out;-I hold my peace, sir? no;
No, I will speak as liberal as the air;
Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against ine, yet I'll speak.

Iago. Be wise, and get you home.
Emil. I will not. [Iago offers to stab his wife.

Gra. Fye!
Your sword woman?
Emil. 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, belonged to such a trifle,) He begg’d of me to steal it.

upon a

Iago. Villainous whore !

Emil. She gave it Cassio! no, alas; I found it, And I did give't my husband. ,

Iago. 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?

[Iago stabs EMILIA, then runs out. Oth. Are there no stones' in heaven, But what serve for the thunder ?---Precious villain !

Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill'a his wife.
Emil. Ay, ay; 0, lay me by my mistress’ side !
Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mon. '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.

[Ereunt MONTANO and GRATIANO.
Oth. I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword :-
But why should honour outlive honesty ?
Let it go all.

Emil. What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, can’st thou hear me? I will play the swan,
And die in music;--Willow, willow, willow.-
Moor, she was chaste; she lov’d thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die,---I die.

[Dies.
Oth. 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.

Gra. [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee

dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

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

Re-enter GRATIANO.
Gra. What is the matter?

Oth. 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, О 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.

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, 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?
Dead ? O! O! O!

Do

Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, CASSIO, carried in a

Chair, and Officers, with Iago, prisoner. Lod. Where is this rash 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 towards his feet;-but that's a

fable : If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee.

[OTHELLO wounds Iago. Lod. Wrench his sword from 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 was once so good,
Fall’n in the practice of a cursed slave,
What shall be said to thee?

Oth. Why, any thing :
An honourable murderer, if you will ;
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.

Lod. This wretch hath part confessed his villainy : Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

Oth. Ay.
Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.

Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray you, 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.

Lod. What? not to pray?
Gru. Torments will ope your lips.

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