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! O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear! Of so high and plenteous wit and invention!— Iago. 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, Iago! O, Iago, the pity of it, Iago.

HIS CONFIRMED JEALOUSY.

Oth. Mistress,

Des.

My lord?

Oth.

What would

Lod. Who, I, my lord?

you with her, sir? [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,-O 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.

* Of so sweet a disposition.

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.-Goats and mon

keys!

[Exit.

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech imI understand a fury in your words,

But not the words.

Oth. Why, what art thou?

Des.

And loyal wife.

Oth.

[port?

Your wife, my lord; your true

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.

Des.

[damn'd,

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,—
10!

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! O 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 whore?

*Treasured up.

Des.

Oth. Is it possible?

No, as I shall be sav'd.

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

But never taint my love.

ACT V.

life,

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 Sword. 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!-One more, 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: O, 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.

HIS LOVE.

Had she been true,

If heaven would make me such another world

* i. c. The light of life.