Concerning this, sir,-O, well-painted passion;
I am commanded home:-Get you away;
I'll send for you anon.-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice;-Hence, avaunt!
[Exit DESDEMONA,
Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, to-night,
I do entreat that we may sup together

You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.-Goats, and monkies!

[Exit.

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA.

Des. Upon my knees, what doth your speech im

Come, swear it, da thyself;

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves Should fear to seize thee: the fore be doubledamn'd,

Swear--thou art honest.

Des.

Heaventh truly know it.

Oth. Heaven truly knows, the thou art false as hell.

Des. To whom, my lord? with whom? How am I false?

Oth. O Desdemona! away! away! away!

Des. Alas, the heavy day! Why do you weep' Am I the occasion of these tea s, my lord?

If, haply, you my father do su pect,
An instrument of this your ca ing back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Why, I have lost him too.

Oth.
Hd it pleas'd heaven
To try me with affliction: had he rain'd
All kinds of sores, and shames on my bare head;
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips;
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
I should have found in some part of my soul
A drop of patience: but (ala, to make me

A fixed figure, for the time of scorn
To point his slow unmoving finger at,—
O! O!

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well:
But there, where I have garner'd* up my heart;
Where either I must live, or bear no life;
The fountain from the which my current runs,
Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads

To knot and gender in!-turn thy complexion there.
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim;
Ay, there, look grim as hell!

Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest.
Oth. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed,
Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet,
That the sense aches at thee.-'Would thou hadst
ne'er been born!

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write whore upon? What committed! Committed!-0 thou public commoner!

I should make very forges of my cheeks,
That would to cinders burn up modesty,
Did I but speak thy deeds.--What committed!
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon winks;
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets,

Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth,
And will not hear it: What committed!-
Impudent strumpet!

Des.

By heaven, you do me wrong Oth. Are not you a strumpet? Des.

No, as I am a christian: If to preserve this vessel for my lord, From any other foul unlawful touch, Be-not to be a strumpet, I am none. Oth. What, not a whore? Des.

Oth. Is it possible?

No, as I shall be save

Des. O, heaven forgive us!

* Treasured up.

cry you mercy, then.

I took you for that cunning whore of Venice,
That married with Othello.

DESDEMONA'S FIDELITY.

O, good lago,

What shall I do to win my lord again?

Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven,
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:-

If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love,
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed;
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense,
Delighted them in any other form;

Or that I do not yet, and ever did,

And ever will-Though he do shake me off
To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly,
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much;
And his unkindness may defeat my life,
But never taint my love.

ACT V.

OTHELLO'S IRRESOLUTION TO MURDER DESDEMONA, SCENE. A Bedchamber; DESDEMONA in bed asleep. A light burning.

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars' It is the cause.--Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster.

[Takes off his sword
Yet she must die, clse she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light:*
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,

Should I repent me:--but once put out thine,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,

That can thy light relume. When I have pluck' thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again,

* i. e. The light of life.

Act V. Sc. 2.