Oth. If you bethink your felf of any crime Unreconcil'd as yet to heav'n, and grace, Solicit for it ftraight. Def. Alack, my Lord, What may you mean by that? Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by. No, heav'ns fore-fend, I would not kill thy foul. Oth. Ay, I do. Def. Then heav'n have mercy on me! Oth. Amen, with all my heart! Def. If you fay fo, I hope you will not kill me, Def. And yet I fear you: for you're fatal then, When your eyes rowl fo. Why I fhould fear I know not, Oth. Think on thy fins. Def. They're loves I bear to you. Oth. Ay, and for that thou dy'ft. Def. That death's unnatural; 7'what! kill for loving! Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? your very frame; Some bloody paffion fhakes your very These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me. Oth. Peace, and be still. Def. I will fo: what's the matter? Oth. That handkerchief Which I fo lov'd, and gave thee, thou gav'it Caffio. Oth. Sweet foul, take heed, take heed of perjury, Def. Ay, but not yet to die. Oth. Yes, presently. Therefore confefs thee freely of thy fin: For to deny each article with oath, L13 Cannot ་ Cannot remove, nor choak, the strong conception Def. And have you mercy too! I never did Oth. By heav'n, I faw my handkerchief in's hand. A murther, which I thought a facrifice. I faw the handkerchief. Def. He found it then; I never gave it him; fend for him hither, Oth. He hath confeft. Def. What, my Lord? Oth. That he hath us'd thee Def. How? unlawfully? Oth. Ay. Def. He will not fay fo. Oth. No, his mouth is stopp'd; Honeft lago hath ta'en order for❜t. Def. My fear 'interprets. Oh! what, is he dead? Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had ftomach for them all. Def. Alas, he is betray'd, and 'I'm` undone. Oth. Out, ftrumpet! weep'ft thou for him to my face? Def. Oh banish me, my Lord, but kill me not. Oth. Down, ftrumpet. Def. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night. Oth. Nay, if you ftrive Def. But half an hour Otb. It is too late, but while I fay one prayer. [Smothers ber. SCENE. SCENE VII. Emilia at the door. [my Lord! Emil. My Lord! my Lord! what hoa! my Lord, Otb. What noife is this? not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel, am yet merciful, I would not have thee linger in thy pain. So, fo. Emil. What hoa! my Lord, my Lord! Oth. Who's there? [you. Emil. Oh, my good Lord, I would speak a word with Oth. Yes, 'tis Emilia by and by -fhe's dead. 'Tis like fhe comes to fpeak of Caffio's death; The noife was high. Ha, no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall fhe come in? were't good? I think the ftirs again No what's the beft? If the come in, fhe'll fure fpeak to my wife; My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. Methinks it fhould be now a huge eclipfe Of fun and moon, and that th' affrighted globe Emil. I befeech you That I may fpeak with you. Oh, good my Lord!Oth. I had forgot thee; oh come in, Emilia. Soft, by and by, let me the curtains draw. Where art thou? what's the matter with thee now? Enter Emilia. [Unlocks the door. Emil. Oh, my good Lord, yonder's foul murthers done. Oth. What? now? Emil. But now, my Lord. Oth. It is the very error of the moon, She comes more near the earth than she was wont, And makes men mad. Emil. Caffio, my Lord, hath kill'd A young Venetian, call'd Rederigo. L14 Oth. Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Caffio kill'd? Oth. Not Caffio kill'd? then murther's out of tune, And fweet revenge grows harfh. Def. Oh falfely, falfely murther'd! Emil. Alas! what cry is that? Emil. Out and alas, that was my Lady's voice. Def. A guiltless death I die. Emil. Oh who hath done this deed? Def. No body, I my self, farewel ; Commend me to my kind Lord; oh farewel! [Dies. Oth. Why, how fhould fhe be murther'd? Oth. You heard her fay her felf, it was not I. 'Twas I that kill'd her. [devil. Emil. Oh the more angel fhe, and you the blacker Oth. She turn'd to folly, and fhe was a whore. Emil. Thou art rafh as fire, to fay That she was falfe. Oh fhe was heav'nly true. Oth. Thy husband. Emil. That fhe was falfe to wedlock? If heav'n would make me fuch another world, I'd not have fold her for it. Emil. My husband! Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me firft; An honeft man he is, and hates the flime That sticks on filthy deeds. Emil. My husband! Oth. What needs this iteration, woman? I fay thy husband. Emil. Oh mistress! villainy has made mocks with love. My husband fay she was falfe! Oth. He, woman; I fay thy husband; doft understand the word? Emil. Do thy worst : This deed of thine is no more worthy heav'n, Oth. Peace, you were best. Emil. Thou haft not half that power to do me harm I care not for thy fword, I'll make thee known, Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others. Gra. What is the matter? Emil. Difprove this villain, if thou be'ft a man ; lago; |