Imatges de pÓgina
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Och. If

you bethink your self of any Crime
Unreconcil'd as yet to Heav'n, and Grace,
Solicit for it straight.

Def. Alack, my Lord,
What may you mean by that?

Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.
I would not kill thy unprepared Spirit,
No, Heav'ns fore-fend, I would not kill thy Soul.

Def. Talk you of killing?
Oth. Ay, I do.
Des. Then Heav'n have Mercy on me,
Oth. Arsen, with all my Heart.
Des. If you say fo, I hope you will not kill me.
Oth Hum.
Def. And yet I fear you: For you're fatal then,
When your Eyes rowl so.
Why I should far I know not,
Since Guiltiness I know not : But yet I feel I fear,

Orh. Think on thy Sins.
Des. They are Loves I b ar to you,
Oth. Ay, and for that thou dy'ft.

Des. That Death's unnatural, that kills for Lovirg.
Alas, why gnaw you fo your Nether-lip?
Some bloody Paffion shakes your very Frame;
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?

Orb. That Handkerchief
Which I so lov'd, and gave thee, thou gav'st Cassia.

Des. No by my Life and Soul: Send for the Man,
And ask him.

Oth, Sweet Soul, take heed, take heed of Perjury,
Thou art on thy Death-bed,

Defa Ay, but not yet to die.

Oih. Presently
Therefore confess thee freely of thy Sin :
For to deny each Article with Oath,
Cannot remove, nor choak the strong Conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

Der

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Def. Oh Heav'n have Mercy on me.
Oth. I say, Amen.

Def. And have you Mercy too; I never did
Offend

you

in my Life; never lov'd Casho, But with such general warrantry of Heav'n, As I might love. I never gave him Token.

Oth. By Heav'n I saw my Handkerchief in's Hand.
O perjur'd Woman! thou dost stone my Heart,
And makest me call, what I intend to do,
A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.
I saw the Handkerchief.

Def. He found it then;
I never gave it him ; send for him hither,
Let him confess a Truth.

Oth. He hath confeft.
Des. Whar, my Lord ?
Oth. That he hathus'd thee.
Def. How? unlawfully?
Oth. Ay.
Def. He will not say fo.
Orh. No, his Mouth is stoppid;
Honest Jago hath ta'en Order for't.

Def. Oh, my fear interprets. What is he dead?

Oih. Had all his Hairs been Lives, my great Revenge Had Stomach for them all.

Def. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone. Oth. Out Strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face? Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not. Oth. Down, Strumpet. Def. Kill me to morrow, let me live to night. Oth. Nay, if you strive. Des. But half an Hour Orb. Being done, there is no Pause. Def. But while I say one Prayer Oth. It is too late.

[Smothers hers. Æmilia at the Door. Æmil. My Lord, my Lord! Whát hoa! My Lord, my Lord!

Oih. 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.

Æmil. within.] What hoa! my Lord, my Lord!
Oth. Who's there?

Æmil. Oh, my good Lord, I would speak a word with you.

Oth. Yes, 'tis Æmilia---by and by---fhe's dead,
'Tis like she comes to speak of Caffio's Death;
The noise was high. Hah, no more moving?
Still as the Grave. Shall the come in were't goods
I think she stirs again ----No---what's best to do?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my Wife;
My Wife! my Wife! what Wife? I have no Wife,
Oh insupportable! Oh heavy Hour!
Methinks it Thould be now a huge Eclipse
Of Sun and Moon, and that the afrighted Globe
Did yawn at Alteration

Amil. I do beseech you
That I may speak with you. Oh, good my Lord !---

Oth. I had forgor chee; Oh come in, Æmilia.
Soft, by and by, let me the Curtains draw,
Where art thou? what's the matter with thee now?

Enter Æmilia.
Æmil. Oh, my good Lord, yonder's foul Murthers
done.

Oth. What? now?
Æmil. But now, my Lord.

Oth. It is the very error of the Moon,
She comes more fearer Earth than she was wont,
And makes Men mad.

Æmil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd
A young Venetian, callid Rodorigo.

Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd?
Æmil. No, Cassio is not kill'd.

Ork. Not Cassio kill'd? Thea Murther's out of tune,
And sweet Revenge grows harsh.

Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd.
Æmil. Alas! what cry is that?
Dib. That? what?

Emil

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Æmil. Out, and alas, that was my Lady's Voice,
Help! help hoa! help! Oh Lady speak again,
Sweer Desdemona, on fwece Mistress, speak.

Def. A guilriess Death I die.
Amil. Oh who bath done this Deed ?

Def. No body, I my felf, farewel;
Commend me to my kind Lord; oh fare wel. [Dies.

Oth. Why, how should she be Murder'd?
Æmil. Alas! who knows?
Oth. You hear her lay her self, it was not I.
Æmil. She said so, I must needs report the Truth.

Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning Hell, ?Twas I that killed her,

Amil. Oh the more Angel the, and you the blacker Devil.

Oth. She turo'd to Folly, and she was a Whore.
Æmil. Thou doft bely her, and thou art a Devil.
Oth. She was false as Water.

Æmil: Thou art rafh as Fire, to say
That she was false. Oh she was heav'nly true.

Oth. Caffio did top her; ask thy Husband else.
O, I were' damo'd beneath all depth in Hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this Extremity. Thy Husband knew it all.

Æmil. My Husband !
Oth. Thy Husband.
Æmil. That she was false to Wedlock?

Oth. Ay, with Caffio: Had the been true,
If Hay'n would make me such another World,
Of one entire and perfe& Chrysolite,
I'd not bave sold her for it.

Æmil: My Husband ?

Orb. Ay, 'twas he that told me first; An honest Man he is, and hates the Slime That sticks on filthy Deeds.

Æmil. My Husband?

Oth. What needs this Interance, Woman? I say thy Husband.

Amil. Oh Mistress! Villany has made mocks with Love.

My My Husband say she was false ?

Oth. He, Woman;
I say thy Husband; do'st understand the word?
My Friend, thy Husband, honest, honest Jago.

Æmil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soul
Rot half a grain a Day; he lies to th' Heart,
She was too fond of her most filthy Bargain.

Oth. Hah ?

£mil. Do thy worft : This Deed of thine is no more worthy Heav'n, Than thou waft worthy her.

Oth. Peace, you were best.

Amil. Thou hast not half that Power to do me harm
As I have to be hurt : Oh Gull! oh Dolt!
As ignorant as Dirt; thou hast done a deed
I care not for thy Sword, I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty Lives---Help ! help ! hoa ! help!
The Moor hath ki!ld my Mistress. Murcher, murther!

Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Jago.
Mon. What is the mitter? How now, General ?
Amil. Oh, are you come, Jago? You have done well,
That Men'must lay their Murthers on your Neck.
Gra. What is the matter?

Æmil. Disprove this Villain, if thou be'st a Man,
He says thou toldst him that his Wife was false :
I know thou didst rot, chou're not such a Villain.
Speak, for my Heart is full.

Jago. I told him what I thought ; and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true.

Æmil. Buç did you ever tell him, she was false }
Jago. I did.

Æmil. You told a Lie, ao odious damned Lic:
Upon my Soul a Lie ; a wicked Lie.
She false with Callio ? did you say with Caffio ?

Jago. With Caffio, Mistress, go to, charm your Tongue.
Æmil. I will not charm my Tongue; I am bound

to speak,
Mistress here lies murthered in her Bed.
All. Oh Heav'ns forefend!

My

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