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! [Hanging over his Wife. Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar ; 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; Oth. 'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows, Come, hold your peace. Emil . 'Twill out, 'twill out;-I hold my peace, lago. sir? no; No, I will speak as liberal as the air; lago. Be wise, and get you home. I will not. [Iago offers to stab his Wife. Gra. Fye! Your sword upon a woman? Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of, I found by fortune, and did give my husband; For often, with a solemn earnestness, (More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle;) He begg'd of me to steal it. Iago. Villainous whore! 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? [Iago stabs Emilia, then runs out. Oth. Are there no stones in heaven, But what serve for the thunder?—Precious villain ! Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his wife. weapon, Which I have here recover'd from the Moor: Come, guard the door without; let him not pass, . No, I will speak as liberal -] Liberal is free, under no control. s Are there no stones in heaven, But what serve for the thunder?] Shakspeare might mean, does heaven reserve its thunder only to make a noise? has it no implements of mischief to punish as well as terrify? 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. 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? Behold! I have a weapon; 4 the ice-brook's temper;] This ice-brook was the brook or rirulet called Salo (now Xalon,) near Bilbilis in Celtiberia. In this the Spaniards plunged all their swords and other weapons while hot from the forge; and to the icy qualities of the waters, they were indebted for their stubborn temper. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapond; Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, Cassio, carried in a Chair, and Officers, with Iago, prisoner. Lod. Where is this rash and inost 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 fable: If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee. COTHELLO wounds IAGO. Lod. Wrench his sword from him. Iago. I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. Oth. I am not sorry neither; I'd have thee live; For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. Lod. O'thou Othello, that was once so good, towards his feet;] To see if, according to the common opinion, his feet be cloven. Fall'n in the practiceo of a cursed slave, Why, any thing: Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? Oih. Ay. Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. you, I pray you, demand that demi-devil, Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body? lago. Deinand me me nothing: What you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word. Lod. What? not to pray? Torments will ope your lips. Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall’n, Oth. O villain! Most heathenish, and most gross! O the pernicious caitiff !How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife's? Cas. I found it in my chamber: 6 in the practice -] In the snare, by the stratagem. |