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.

[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.

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

keys!

[Exit.

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im

I 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

[false?

hell.
Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? Howaml
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,-
Ο!Ο!

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?

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 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 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,