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Æmil. Oh, are you come, lago? you have done:

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

Æmil. Disprove this, villain, if thou best a man; He says thou toldest 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: Than what he found himself was apt and true.

Emil. But did you ever tell him the was false?


lago. I did.

Ævil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie: Upon my soul, a lie; â wicked lie, She false with Cafio ? did you say, with Caffio ? lage. With Caflio, mistress; go to, charm your

tongue. Emil. I will not charm my tongue ; I'm bound:

to speak;
My mistress lyes here murdered on her bed.

All. Oh Heavens forfend !
mil. And your reports have set the murder on.
Oih. Nay, stare not, masters ; it is true, indeed.
Gra. 'Tis a strange truth.
Mon. Oh monstrous act !

Æmil. Villainy! villainy! villainy !
I think upon’t--- I think---I imell't--ch villainy !
I thought fo then; l'll kill myself for grief;-
Oh villainy, villainy!

lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get

Æmil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now: [speak: Perchance, lago, I will ne'er go home.

Oth. Oh, oh, oh! [Othello falls on the Bed.

you home.

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Æinil. Nay, lay thee down and roar:
For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye.
Oth. Oh, she was foul !

[Rising I scarce did know you, uncle; there lyes your niece, Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stop

I know this act shews horrible and grim..
Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm glad thy father's

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 desperate turn;
Yea, curse his better angel from his fide,
And fall to reprobation.

Öth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,.
That she with Caffio had the act of shame.
A thousand times committed. Caflio confess'd it;
And the did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I firfi gave her; I saw it in his hand;
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Æmil. Oh Heav'n! oh heav'nly powers !
Jago. Come, hold your peace.

Æmit. 'Twill out, 'twill out !---I, peace!
No, I will speakas liberal as the air;
Let Heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all cry fhme against me, yet I'll speak.

lago. Be wise, and get you home.
Æmil. I will mot. [lago offers 10 ftab his wife.
Gra. Fy, your sword upon a woman!
Æmil. Oh, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief

thou speakeit of,
I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For ofien, with a folemn earnestneis,


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(More than, indeed, belonged to such a triflet He begged of me to steal it.

lags. Villainous whore !

Æmil. She Caflio ? alas, I found it, And I did give't my husband.

lagi. Filth, thou lieit.

Æmil. By Heav'n,,I do not; I do not, gentlemen:: Oh murd'rous coxcomb ! what should such a fool Do with so good a wife?

[lago breaks through and wounds his Wife,

then runs out.
Oth. Are there no stones in heaven
But what serve for the thunder? precious villain !
Gra. The woman falls; fure, he has killed his

Æmil: Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistress’ side.-
Gra. He's gone, but his wife is killed.
Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain;

take this weapon, Which I have here recovered from the Moor: Come, guard the door without, let him not pass, But kill him rather; I'll after that same villain, For 'tis a damned stave. [Exeunt Mon, and Gra.

Oth. I am not valiant neither;
But every puny whipster gets my sword.
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.

Æmil. What did thy-fong bode, Lady?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan,
And die in music; Willow, willow, willow”...
Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;.
So conie my soul to blifs as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, alas, I die. [Æmilia dieso..

Oih. I 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 cost thee.


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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 affault thee.

Re-enter GRAT'IANO..
Gra. What is the matter?

Oib. Lo! I have a weapon ::
A betrer never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh. I've seen the day,
That with this little arm, and this good sword,
I've made my way thro’ more impediments,
Than twenty times your stop. But, oh vain boast!
Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, tho' you do fee me weaponed;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
The very fea-mark of my utmost fail.
Do you go back dismayed? 'tis a loit fear:
Man but a.ruih against Othello's breait,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now------ how doft thou look now? oh, ill-starred

Pale as thy fmock! 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 chaltity. O cursed lave!
Whip me, ye devils !
From the poffeffion of this heavenly fight;
Blow me about in winds, roast me in fulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulphs of liquid fire
Oh Desdemona! Desdemona! dead, dead! oh! oh!:
Enter LODOVICO, CASSIO led in wounded, MONTA-

No, and IAGO prisoner, with Oficers.
Lod. Where is this rain and most unfortunate

Qub, That's he that was Othello: here I am.

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Lod. Where is that viper ? bring the villain forth.
Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a

fable. (54)
If that thou be'it a devil, I cannot kill thee.

[Othello wounds lago. Lod. Wrench his sword from him. lago. I bleed, Sir, but not killed..

Oih. I am not sorry neither: I'd have thee live; For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. Oh thou, Othello, that walt once so good,
Pallin in the practice of a cursed flave,
What shall be said to thee?

Oth. Why, any thing;
An honourable murderer, if you

For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.

Lod. This wretch hath part confefs'd his villainy: Did you

and he consent in Caffio's death? Oth. Ay, Cuf. Dear General, I never gave you cause...

Oih. I. do believe it, and I alk your pardon : Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil, Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? Iugo. Demand me nothing; what you know, you

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,

(54) I look down towards his feet: but that's a fable.) I won't pretend to affirm but Ben. Johnson seems to me to be facere ing at Shakespeare, for hiating at a notion, iaculcated, by the foppery of painters, and fuperftition of zealots into the pulgar, that the Devil has cloven feet.

I looked on your fact afore, you cannot cozen me;
Your fhoc's not.clover, Sir, you are whole hoofed.

Devi's an Abs.

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