Emil. Oh, are you come, Iago? you have done: well, That men muft lay their murders on your neck. Emil. Difprove this, villain, if thou be'st a man; 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 fhe was falfe?· Iago. I did. Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie: Upon my foul, a lie; a wicked lie, She falfe with Caffio? did you fay, with Caffio? Iago. With Caffio, mistress; go to, charm your tongue. Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound: to speak; My miftrefs lyes here murdered on her bed.. All. Oh Heavens forfend! Emil. And your reports have fet the murder on. Oth. Nay, ftare not, masters; it is true, indeed. Gra. 'Tis a strange truth. Mon. Oh monftrous act! Emil. Villainy villainy! villainy! I think upon't---I think---I imell't--ch villainy ! lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now: Perchance, lago, I will ne'er go home. [fpeak: Oth. Oh, oh, oh! [Othello falls on the Bed. Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar: For thou haft killed the fweetest innocent That e'er did lift up eye. Oth. Oh, the was foul ! [Rifing. I scarce did know you, uncle; there lyes your niece, Whofe breath indeed thefe hands have newly ftopped.. I know this act fhews horrible and grim.. Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm glad thy father's Thy match was mortal to him; and pure grief Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows, Emil. Oh Heav'n! oh heav'nly powers! Emil. Twill out, 'twill out !---I, peace! No, I will fpeak as liberal as the air r; Let Heaven, and men, and devils, let them all, Emil. I will not. [lago offers to ftab his Wife. Emil. Ch, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief I found by fortune, and did give my husband; (More than, indeed, belonged to fuch a trifle) He begged of me to fteal it. lago. Villainous whore! Emil. She gave it Caffio? alas, I found it, And I did give't my husband. , lago. Fiith, thou lieft.. Emil. By Heav'n, I do not; I'do not, gentlemen:: Oh murd'rous coxcomb! what should fuch a fool Do with fo good a wife? [lago breaks through and wounds his Wife, then runs out. Oth. Are there no ftones in heaven But what ferve for the thunder? precious villain ! Gra. The woman falls; fure, he has killed his wife. Emil Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistrefs' fide.Gra. He's gone, but his wife is killed. Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain; take this weapon, Which I have here recovered 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 flave. [Exeunt Mon, and Gra. Oth. I am not valiant neither; Emil. What did thy fong bode, Lady? So fpeaking as I think, alas, I die. [Æmilia diese Gra. within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou haft no weapon, and perforce must fuffer. Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will affault thee. Re-enter GRATIANO.. Gra. What is the matter? Oth. Lo! I have a weapon: Upon a foldier's thigh. I've feen the day, Do you go back difmayed? 'tis a loft fear:. Man but a rush againft Othello's breast, And he retires. Where fhould Othello go? Now-how doft thou look now? oh, ill-ftarred wench! Pale as thy fmock! When we fhall meet at compt,. From the poffeffion of this heavenly fight; Lod. Where is this rafh and moft unfortunate, man? Qih. 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. (54). If that thou be'it a devil, I cannot kill thee. [Othello wounds Iago. Lod. Wrench his fword from him. Iago. I bleed, Sir, but not killed.. Oth. I am not forry neither: I'd have thee live; For, in my fenfe, 'tis happiness to die. Led. Oh thou, Othello, that walt once fo good, Pall'n in the practice of a curfed flave, What fhall be faid to thee? Oth. Why, any thing; An honourable murderer, if you will: Oth. Ay. Caf. Dear General, I never gave you cause.. From this time forth I never will speak word. Gra. Torments will ope your lips. Oth. Well, thou dost beft.. Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, (54) I look down towards his feet: but that's a fable:] I won't pretend to affirm but Ben Johnfon feems to me to be fneer ing at Shakespeare, for hinting at a notion, inculcated, by the foppery of painters, and fuperftition of zealots into the ulgar, that the Devil has cloven fect. I looked of your feet afore, you cannot cozen me; Devil's an Afs. |