I'd not have sold her for it. Emil. My husband? Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first; An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds. Emil. My husband? Oth. What needs this iterance, woman? I say, thy husband. Emil. O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love! My husband say, that she was false? Oth. Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven, Oth. Peace, you were best. Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me harm, As I have to be hurt. O gull! O 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, ho! help! The Moor has kill'd my mistress; Murder! murder! Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and IAGO. Mon. What is the matter!-How now, general? Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man : Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no more Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie: She false with Cassio! Did you say, with Cassio? Iago. With Cassio, mistress; Go to, charm your tongue. Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak; My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed. All. O heavens forefend! Emil. And your reports have set the murder on. Mon. O monstrous act! Emil. Villainy, villainy, villainy!I think upon 't,-I think,-I smell 't;-O villainy! I thought so then ;--I 'll kill myself for grief.-O villainy, villainy! 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. O! O! O! O! Nay, lay thee down, and roar; [Hanging over his Wife. O, she was foul!- [Rising For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, Oth. Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead; Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, And fall to reprobation. Oth. 'Tis pitiful: but yet fago knows, It was a handkerchief, an antique token Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers! Come, hold your peace. Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out:-I hold my peace, sir? no; No, I will speak as liberal as the air; Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all, Emil. Gra. I will not. [IAGO offers to stab his Wife. Your sword upon a woman? Fy! Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of, I found by fortune, and did give my husband; (More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,) Iago. Villainous whore! Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it, And I did give 't my husband. Filth, thou liest. Iago. O murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool Do with so good a wife? [IAGO stabs EMIL. then runs out. Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his wife. Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon Emil. What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, can'st thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in musick;-Willow, willow, willow. Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber, [Dies. Gra. [within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. Re-enter GRATIANO. Gra. What is the matter? Behold! I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, O cursed, cursed slave!-Whip me, ye devils, Dead? O! O! O! Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, CASSIO, carried in a Chair and Officers, with IAGO, prisoner. Lod. Where is this rash and most 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 towards his feet;-but that's a fa ble: If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. [OTH. wounds IAGO Lod. Wrench his sword from him. Iago. I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. Lod. O thou Othello, that was once so good, Fall'n in the practice of a cursed slave, Oth. Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will; For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy: Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. Iago. 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 dost best. Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not: Here is a letter, Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; And here, another: the one of them imports The death of Cassio to be undertook By Roderigo. Oth. O villain! Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross! Lod. Now here's another discontented paper, Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; But that, belike, Iago in the interim |