Imatges de pàgina
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Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no mort 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, miftrefs; go to, charm your tongu Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound to fpri My mistress lyes here murther'd in her bed. a

lago. What, are you mad? I charge you get you hor 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. Oh! oh! oh!

[Othello falls on the bes Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar : For thou haft kill'd the fweetest innocent,

That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth. Oh fhe was foul!

I fcarce did know you, uncle; there lyes your niece,

[Rifing Whofe breath indeed thefe hands have newly ftop'd; I know this act fhews horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm 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 fight would make him do a desp❜rate turn; Yea, curfe his better angel from his fide, And fall to reprobation.

(a)

murther'd in her bed. *

All. Oh heav'ns forefend!

Emil. And your reports have fet the murther on.
Oth. Nay, ftare not, mafters, it is true indeed.

Gra. 'Tis a ftrange truth.

Mon. Oh monstrous act !

Emil. Villainy! villainy! villainy!

-

I think upon't I think I fmeil't- Oh villainy!
I thought fo then; I'll kill my felf for grief;

Oh Villainy, villainy?

lago. What, are you mad, &c,

Oth.

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Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That the with Caffio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confeft it,
And she did gratifie his amorous works,
With that, recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave; I faw it in his hand :
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. Oh heav'n! oh heav'nly powers!
lago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out- I peace!
No, I will speak as liberal as the air;

Let heav'n, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry fhame against me, yet I'll speak.
Jago. Be wife and get you home.

Emil. I will not.

[lago offers to ftab bis Wife.

Gra. Fie, your fword upon a woman?

Emil. Oh, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of

I found by fortune, and did give my husband;

For often, with a folemn earnestness,

(More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,)

He begg'd of me to fteal it.

Iago. Villainous whore!

Emil. She give it Caffio? alas, I found it,
And I did give't my husband.

Iago. Filth, thou lieft.

Emil. By heav'n, I do not; I do not, gentlemen:
Oh murd❜rous coxcomb! what fhould 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 heav'n,

But what serve for the thunder? precious villain!
Gra. The woman falls; fure he hath kill'd his wife.
Emil. Ay, ay; oh lay me by my mistress' fide.
Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain; take this weapon,
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:

Come,

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 Montano and Gratiane

SCENE

Oth. I am not valiant neither;

But every puny whipfter gets my fword.
By why fhould honour out-live honesty?
Let it go all.

IX.

.

Emil. What did thy fong boad, Lady?
Hark, canft thou hear me? I will play the fwan,
And die in mufick; Willow, Willow, Willow
Moor, fhe was chafte; fhe lov'd thee, cruel Moor;
So come my foul to blifs, as I fpeak true!
So fpeaking as I think, alas, I die.

[Æmilia dies
Oib. I have another weapon in this chamber,
It was a fword of Spain, the a Ebro's temper;
Oh here it is: uncle, I must come forth.

Gra. within.] If thou attempt it, it will coft thee dear ; Thou haft no weapon, and perforce muft fuffer.

Oth. Look in upon me then, and fpeak 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 :
A better never did it felf fuftain

Upon a foldier's thigh. I've feen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good fword,
I made my way through more impediments,

Than twenty times your ftop. But, oh vain boast!
Who can controul his fate? 'tis not fo now.

Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd;

Here

(a) In the firft edition it is Ifebroke's temper. Thence corrupted to Ice-brooks. Ebro's temper: the waters of that river of Spain are particularly famous for tempering of feel. The fineft arms in the world, the Catalonian Fufees. Pope.

Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very fea-mark of my utmost fail.
Do you go back difmay'd? 'tis a loft fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires. Where fhould Othello go?
Now-how doft thou look now? oh ill-ftarr'd wench!
Pale as thy fmock! When we fhall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my foul from heav'n,
And fiends will fnatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Ev'n like thy chastity. Oh cursed slave!
Whip me, ye devils,

From the poffeffion of this heav'nly fight;
Blow me about in winds, roaft me in fulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire
Oh Defdemona! Defdemona! dead, dead! oh, oh!

S CE N E X.

Enter Lodovico, Caffio led in wounded, Montano,
and lago prifoner, with Officers.

Lod. Where is this rafh and moft 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 tow'rds his feet; but that's a fable. If that thou beeft a devil, I cannot kill thee.

[Othello wounds Iago,

Lod. Wrench his fword from him.

4

lago. 'I bleed, but am not kill'd.`

Oth. I am not forry neither: I'd have thee live;
For in my fenfe, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. Óh thou, Othello, that waft once fo good,
Fall'n in the practice of a curfed flave,
What fhall be faid to thee?

Oth. Why, any thing;

An honourable murth'rer, if you will:

For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.
Lod. This wretch hath part confeft his villainy :

3 I bleed, Sir, but not kill'd.

Did

Did you and he confent in Caffio's death?

Oth. Ay.

Caf. Dear General, I never gave you cause.
Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon :
Will you,
you, I pray, demand that demy-devil,

Why he hath thus enfnar'd my foul and body?

lago. Demand me nothing; what you know, you know; From this time forth I never will speak word. Lod: What? not to pray ?

Gra. Torments will ope your lips.

Oth. Well, thou doft best.

Lod. Sir, you fhall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not; here's a letter,, Found in the pocket of the flain Rodorigo,

And here another; one of them imports
The death of Caffio to be undertook

By Rodorigo.

Oth. Oh villain!

Caf. Moft heathenish and moft grofs!

Lod. Now, here's another difcontented paper Found in his pocket too; and this it feems Redorigo meant t' have fent this damned villain; But that belike Tago in the interim

Came in, and fatisfy'd him.

Oth. Oh thou pernicious caitiff!

How came you, Caffio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?

Caf. I found it in my chamber;

And he himself confeft it but even now,
That there he dropt it for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his defire.

Oth. O fool, fool, fool!

Caf. There is befides, in Rodorigo's letter, How he upbraids Iago that he made him Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came That I was caft; and even now he fpake After long feeming dead, Iago hurt him, Lago fet him on.

Lod.

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