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Of one entire and perfect chrysolite ',
I'd not have sold her for it.

Emil. My husband?

Oth.

Ay, 't was 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!

that she was false?

My husband say,
Oth.
He, woman.
I say, thy husband; Dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.
Oth. Ha!

Emil.

Do thy worst:

This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.

Oth.

Peace, you were best. Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me harm,

As I have to be hurt. 3 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. O, are you come, Iago? you have done

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well,

2 Repetition.

A precious stone.
3" More can I bear than you dare execute."

That men must lay their murders on your neck.
Gra. What is the matter?

Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man. He says, thou told'st him, that his wife was false: 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 himself was apt and true. Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false? Iago. I did.

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 4!

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

Mon. O monstrous act!

Emil.

Villainy, villainy, villainy !I think upon 't, I think, I smell 't;-Ŏ vil

lainy!

I thought so then ; — I'll kill myself for grief.
O villainy, villainy !

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, Iago, I will ne'er go home.
Oth. O! O! O!
Emil.

[Hanging over his Wife. Nay, lay thee down, and roar;

4 Forbid.

For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth.

O, she was foul!

[Rising.

I scarce did know you, uncle: There lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:

I know, this act shows horrible and grim.

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,
This sight would make him do a desperate turn.
Oth. 'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
And she did gratify his amorous vows

With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers!
Iago.
Come, hold your peace.
Emil. 'T will out, 't will 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,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
Iago. Be wise, and get you home.

Emil.

Gra.

I will not..

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Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou

Your sword upon a woman?

speak'st of,

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

s. Free.

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

Iago.

Villainous liar!

Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it, And I did give 't my husband.

Iago. Filth, thou liest. Emil. By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen: O murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool Do with so good a wife?

Oth.

[IAGO stabs EMILIA, then runs out. Are there no stones in heaven,

But what serve for the thunder?

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Precious villain! Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his

wife.

Emil. Ay, ay; O, lay me by my mistress' side! Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this

weapon,

Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
But kill him rather; I'll after that same villain.
[Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO.

Oth. I am not valiant neither,

But every puny whipster gets my sword:
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.

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.
Moor, she was chaste; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die, I die.

-

[Dies. Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber, It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper; O, here it is: :- Uncle, I must come forth.

"Steel is hardened by being put red-hot into very cold

water.

Gra. [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear;

Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

Re-enter GRATIANO.

Gra. What is the matter?

Oth.

Behold! I have a weapon;

A better never did itself sustain

your stop:

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Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times
But, O vain boast!
Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires Where should Othello go?
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt'
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity.-

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O cursed, cursed slave ! Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?

Dead? O! O! O!

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