Emil. I befeech you,

That I may speak 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 ? [Unlocks the door.

Enter Emilia.

Emil. Oh, my good Lord, yonder's foul murder 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 fhe was wont,
And makes men mad.

Emil. Caffio, my Lord, hath kill'd

A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo.

Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Caffio kill'd ?

Emil. No, Caffio is not kill'd.

Oth. Not Caffio kill'd? then murder's out of tune, harsh.

And sweet revenge grows

Def. Oh, falfely, falfely murder'd!-
Emil. Alas! what cry is that?

and amufe. It would be uncivil to afk Flamstead, if the fun and "moon can both together be fo hugely eclipfed, in any heavy bour "whatsoever. Nor muft the fpectators confult Gresham colledge, "whether a body is naturally frighted till he yawn again.' Such are the ludicrous criticisms of your wits! But is the word eclipfe ab. folutely reftrain'd to that natural phenomenon which we understand by it? If Othello thought his deed fo horrid, that the fun and moon ought to start from their spheres at it, and ceafe to enlighten this under-globe, might not such a defection be call'd an eclipfe, with a vengeance? Well, but, then, can a body be frighted till it yawn? Here again, yawn is reftrain'd to the ofcitation of a man ready to fall afleep; and, for the joke's fake, muft mean no other kind of gaping. This gentleman must have known, fure, that yawn (as well as xavev, from which it is deriv'd) was oftner apply'd to the gaping of the earth, than employ'd to fignify the ua xexnvis, the yawning, for instance, of a critick gaping after a feeble jeft. But, I am afraid, Mr. Rymer was not too diligent a reader of the Scriptures. Let the Poet account for the prophanation, if he has committed any: but it is very obvi ous to me, his allufion is grounded on a certain folemn circumftance, when darkness is said to have cover'd the whole face of the land ; when rocks were rent, and graves open'd.

VOL. VIII.

Oth. That? what?

Emil. Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice. Help! help, hoa! help! oh lady, speak again; Sweet Desdemona! oh fweet mistress, fpeak.

Def. A guiltless death I die.

Emil. Oh, who hath done this deed?
Def. No body, I myself, farewel;

Commend me to my kind Lord; oh, farewel.
Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd?
Emil. Alas! who knows?

[Dies.

Oth. You heard her fay, herself, it was not I. Emil. She faid fo, I must needs report the truth. Oth. She's like a liar gone to burning hell; 'Twas I, that kill'd her.

[devil Emil. Oh, the more angel fhe, and you the blacker Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou doft bely her, and thou art a devil. Oth. She was falfe as water.

Emil. Thou art rafh as fire, to say

That she was falfe. Oh, she was heav'nly true.
Oth. Caffio did tup her; ask thy husband elfe.
Oh, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon juft grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
Emil. My husband!

Oth. Thy husband.

Emil. That fhe was falfe to wedlock?
Oth. Ay, with Caffio: had the been true,
If heav'n would make me fuch another world,
Of one entire and perfect Chryfolite,

I'd not have fold her for it.

Emil. My husband!

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first ;

An honeft man he is, and hates the flime

That sticks on filthy deeds.

mil. My husband!

Oth. What needs this iteration, woman?

I fay, thy hufband.

Emil. Oh miftrefs! villany has made mocks with love. My husband fay, fhe was falfe!

Oth. He, woman;
I fay, thy husband; do'ft understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honeft, honeft Iago.
Emil. If he fays fo, may his pernicious.foul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to th' heart.
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Oth. Hah!

Emil. Do thy worst:

This deed of thine is no more worthy heav'n,
Than thou waft worthy her.

Oth. Peace, you were best.

Emil. Thou haft not half that power to do me harm, As I have to be hurt: oh gull! oh dolt! As ignorant as dirt! thou'ft done a deed

I care not for thy fword, I'll make thee known, Though I loft twenty livesHelp! help, hoa! help! The Moor hath kill'd my mistress. Murder, murder!

Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others.

Mon. What is the matter? how now, General ? Emil. Oh, are you come, Iago? you have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck. Gra. What is the matter?

Emil. Difprove this villain, if thou be'st a man ; He fays, thou toldft him that his wife was falfe : I know, thou didft not; thou'rt not fuch a villain. Speak, for my heart is full.

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, she was false?
Iago. I did.

Emil. You told a lye; an odious, damned, lye:
Upon my foul, a lye; a wicked lye.

She falfe with Caffio? did you fay, with Caffio?
Iago. With Caffio, miftrefs; go to, charm your tongue.
Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound to fpeak;
My mistress lies here murder'd in her bed.

All. Oh heavens forefend!

Emil. And your reports have fet the murder on. Oth. Nay, ftare not, masters; it is true, indeed.

Q 2

Gra.

Ga, 'Tis a ftrange truth.

Mon. Oh monstrous act !

Emil. Villany! villany! villany!

I think upon't I think I fmell't-Oh villany!
I thought fo then; I'll kill myself for grief;-
Oh villany, villany!

Jago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. 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 bed. Amil. Nay, lay thee down and roar : For thou haft kill'd the sweetest innocent,

That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth. Oh, fhe was foul!

[Rifing.

I fcarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whofe breath, indeed, these hands have newly ftopp'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 defp'rate turn;
Yea, curfe his better angel from his fide,
And fall to reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That the with Caffio had the act of shame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confeft it,
And fhe did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; 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!
Jago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. Twill out, 'twill out-, 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.
Iago. Be wife, and get you home.
Emil. Iwill not.

[lago offers to fab his quife.

Gra

Gra. Fy, your fword upon a woman?

[fpeak'ft of,

Emil. Oh, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief, thou

I'found by fortune, and did give my husband;

For often, with a folemn earnestnefs,

(More than, indeed; belong'd to `such a trifle) He begg'd of me to fteal it.

laga. Villanous whore!

mil. 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?

[Tago breaks through and wounds his wif, 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 has kill'd his wife.
Emil. Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my miftrefs' 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, guard the door without, let him not pafs,
But kill him rather; I'll after that fame villain,
For 'tis a damned flave.

[Exeunt Mon, and Grai

Oth. I am not valiant neither;"
But every puny whipfter gets my fword.
But why should honour out-live honefty?
Let it go all.

Emil. What did thy fong bode, lady?
Hark, can't 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.

[Emilia dies. Or. I have another weapon in this chamber,

It was a fword of Spain, the Ebro's temper;
Oh, here it is: Uncle, muft come forth.

Gra. within. If thou attempt it, it will coft thee dear ;
Thou haft no weapon, and perforce muft fuffer.
O. Look in upon me then, and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will affault thee.

Q3

Re-enter