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Ay, my lord.

Des.

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime, Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.

Des. Alas, 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,-Heaven forefend! 1—I would not kill thy soul. Des. Talk you of killing?

Oth.

Des.

Have mercy on me!

Oth.

Ay, I do.

Then, Heaven

Amen, with all my heart!

Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. Oth. Humph!

Des. And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then, When your eyes roll so: why I should fear, I know

not,

Since guiltiness I know not; but yet, I feel, I fear. Oth. Think on thy sins.

Des.

They are loves I bear to you.

Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest.

Des. That death's unnatural that kills for

loving.

Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?

Some bloody passion shakes your very frame.
These are portents; but yet, I hope, I hope,

1 Forbid.

They do not point on me.

Oth.

Peace, and be still!

Des. I will so: what's the matter?

Oth. That handkerchief, which I so loved, and

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Take heed of perjury: thou 'rt on thy death-bed.

Des. Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth.

Yes, presently:

Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;

For to deny each article with oath,

Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception,
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me!

Oth.

I say, Amen.

Des. And have you mercy too!-I never did
Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio,
But with such general warranty of Heaven
As I might love: I never gave him token.

Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand.

O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart;
And makest me call, what I intend to do,

A murder, which I thought a sacrifice :

I saw the handkerchief.

Des.

He found it then;

I never gave it him.-Send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth.

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Honest Iago hath ta'en order for 't.

Des. My fear interprets then.-What, is he dead?

Oth. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge

Had stomach for them all.

Des. Alas! he is betray'd, and I undone.

Oth. Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to

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Des. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not.
Oth. Down, strumpet!

Des. Kill me to-morrow; let me live to-night.
Oth. Nay, if you strive,

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Emi. [within.] My lord, my lord! what ho! my

lord, my lord!

Oth. What noise is this?-Not dead, not yet quite dead?

I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;

I would not have thee linger in thy pain.

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