Oh, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon juft grounds
To this extremity. Thy hulband knew it all.
Emil. My husband!

Oth. Thy husband.

Emil. That fhe was falfe to wedlock?
Oth. Ay, with Caffio. Had he 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 honest man he is, and hates the flime
That sticks on filthy deeds.

Emil. My husband!

Oth. What needs this iteration, woman!

I say, thy husband.

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

Oth. He, woman;

Ifay, thy husband; dot understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honeft, honest Iago.
Emil. If he fay fo, may his pernicious foul
Rot half a grain a-day! He lyes 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 beft.

[love,

* to do me

Emil. Thou bait not half that power
As I have to be hurt. Oh gull ! oh dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou't done a deed-
I care not for thy fword, I'll make thee known,
Though I loft twenty lives

help!

[harm,

Help! help, hoa,

The Moor hath kill'd my mistress. Murther, murther!

Enter Montano, Gratiano, Iago, and others.,

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

Amil. Dilprove this villain, if thou be'st a man;
He fays thou told'ft him that his wife was falfe :
I know thou didst not; thou'rt not such a villain.
Speak, for my heart is full.

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

Emil. But did you ever tell him she was falfe?
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 speak;

My mistress lies here murther'd in her bed. *

Iago. 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, lago, I will ne'er go home.
Oth. Oh! oh! oh!

[Othello falls on the bed.

Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar : For thou haft kill'd the fweeteft innocent That e'er did lift up eye.

murther'd in her bed.

All. Oh Heavens forefend!

Emil. And your reports have set the murther on,
Oth. Nay, ftare not, masters; it is true indeed.
Gra. 'Tis a range truth.

Mon. Oh monstrous act!

Emil Villany! villany! villany!

I think upon't-I think

1 fmell't

I thought fo then; I'll kill myfelf for grief;

Oh villany, villany!

Lago, What, are you mad? &c.

Oh villany!

Oth. Oh, fhe was foul!

[Rifing,

I fcarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath indeed thefe hands have newly ftopp'd; I know, this act fhews horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Deldemona! 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 delp'rate turn;
Yea, curfe his better angel from his fide,
And fall to reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pititul; but yet Iago knows,
That the with Caffio had the act of fhame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confefs'd it;
And the did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognitance 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. Ob Heav'n! oh heav'nly powers!
Iago 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 l'il speak.
Iago. Be wife, and get you home.

Emil. will not.

[lago offers to ftab his wife.

Gra. Fie, your sword upon a woman?

Emil, O thou dull Moor: that handkerchief thou fpeak'st of,

I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often with a folemn earnestness,

(More than indeed belong'd to fuch a trifle),
He begg'd of me to steal it.

Iago. Villainous whore!

Emil. She give it Caffio? alas, I found it,

And did give't my husband.

lago. Filth, thou lyeft.

Emil. By heav'n, I do not; I do not, Gentlemen, Oh murd'rous coxcomb! what, fhould fuch a fool Do with so good a wife?

Iago breaks through, and wounds his wife, then runs out.

Oth. Are there no ftones in heav'n ?

For what then ferves the thunder precious villain! Gra. The woman falls; fure he has kill'd his wife. Emil. Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistress' fide! Gra. He is 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 cor without, let him not pafs, But kill him rather ; ' after that fame villain, For 'tis a damned flave. [Exeunt Mon and Gra.

Oth. "I am not valiant neither; "But every puny whipster gets my fword. "But why thould Honour outlive Honesty? "Let it go all."

Amil. What did thy fong boad, Lady?

Hark, canft thou hear me? I will play the fwan,
And die in mufic; Willow; Willow, Willow

Moor, fhe was chafte; she 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.
Oth have another weapon in this chamber,
It was a sword of Spain, the 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 speak 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 itfelf fuftain

Upon a foldier's thigh. I've feen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good fword,

In the first edition it is, Ife brook's temper. Thence corrupted to Ice brook's - Ebro's temper; the waters of that river of Spain are particularly famous for tempering of steel.

the world are the Catalonian fufees.

The finest arms in

I've made my way thro' more impediments,
Than twenty times your ftop. But, oh vain boast!
Who can controul his fatè? 'tis not fo now.
Be not afraid, tho' you do fee me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
The 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. O 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 gulphs of liquid fire

Oh Desdemona! Defdemona ! dead, dead! oh, oh!

Enter Lodovico, Caffio led in wounded, Montano, and Iago prijoner, with Officers.

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 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.

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

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

Lod. Oh thou, Othello, that was 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 confefs'd his villany,,'

Did you and he confent in Caffio's death?

Aa â