Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night:-
What, do you shake at that?

Bian. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

Iago. O, did he so? I charge you go with me. Emil. Fye, fye upon thee, strumpet! Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest, As you that thus abuse me.

Emil.

As I foh! fye upon thee! Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd:

Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale.-
Emilia, run you to the citadel,

And tell my lord and lady what has happ'd.-
Will you go on, I pray?—This is the night,

[Aside. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A Bed-chamber: DESDEMONA in Bed asleep. A Light burning. Enter OTHELLO.

That either makes me, or fordoes me quite.

Oth. 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 hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster.

[Takes off his Sword. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light:7 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'd thy rose,

I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither:-I'll smell it on the tree.
[Kissing her.

O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword!-One more, one more.-
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after:-One more, and this the last:
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes, where it doth love. She wakes-
Des. Who's there? Othello?

Oth.

Ay, Desdemona.

Des. Will you come to bed, my lord? Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona? Des. Ay, my lord. Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime, Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.

Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that?
Oth. Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by;

I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
No,-Heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
Des. Talk you of killing?

Oth.

Des.

Have mercy on me!

Oth.

• Undoes.

i. e. The light of life.

Ay, I do.

Then heaven Amen, with all my heart!

This is the punctuation of the folio of 1623, and of Pope, Stevens, &c., but some editors point it thus;

Put out the light, and then-Put out the light:
Forbid

Oth. Sweet soul, take heed, Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy death-bed. Des. Ay, but not yet to die. Oth.

Yes, presently: Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin; For to deny each article with oath, Cannot remove, nor choke, the strong conception That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me! Oth. I say, amen. Des. And have you mercy too!—I never did Offend you in my life; never lov'd Cassio, But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love: I never gave him token.

Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand. O perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart, And mak'st me call what I intend to do,A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: I saw the handkerchief.

Des.

He found it then;

a word with you.

Oth. Yes;-'tis Emília:-by-and-by.-She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death: The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in?" "Were't good!

I think, she stirs again:-No.-What's the best?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
My wife! my wife! what wife?-I have no wife:
O, insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.

And Cassio kill'd!

Emil.

Roderigo kill'd!

No, Cassio is not kill'd.

Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, and IAGO. Mon. What is the matter?-How now, general? Emil. O,are you come, Iago? you have done well, 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.

Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd! Emil.

Oth. That! what?

Alas, what cry is that?

Emil.

O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil!

Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil! Oth. She was false as water. Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false; 0, she was heavenly true! Oth. Cassio did tap her; ask thy husband else. 0, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. Emil. My husband?"

Oth. Thy husband.

Emil. That she was false to wedlock? Oth.

Nay, had she been true,

Ay, with Cassio.

If heaven would make me such another world

Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,9

I'd not have sold her for it.

Emil. My husband?

Oth.

Ay, 'twas he that told me first: An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds.

My husband?

Emil. Oth. What needs this iterance,' woman? I say, thy husband.

Emil. O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love!

My husband say that she was false?
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.2 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!

All. O heavens forfend!3

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.

Villany, villany, villany! I think upon't, I think. I smell't;-O villany!I thought so then;-I'll kill myself for grief.O villany, villany!

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. O! 0!0! Emil.

[Hanging over his wife. 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;

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,
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.

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 works
With that recognisance 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. Twill out, 'twill 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.

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. 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, For 'tis a damned slave.

[Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO. Oth. I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword:But why should honor outlive honesty? Let it go all. Emil. What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in music;-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;5O, 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? Oth. Behold! I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain 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 your stop:-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.-

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!

Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a
Chair, and Officers, with IAGO prisoner.
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 towards his feet ;7-but that's a
fable:

If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
[OTHELLO 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,
Fall'n in the practices of a cursed slave,
What shall be said to thee?

Oth. Why, any thing: An honorable murderer, if you will; For naught I did in hate, but all in honor. Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

Oth. Ay.

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
Steel is hardened by being put red-hot into very cold

water.

• Account. To see if his feet be cloven. • Stratagem.

I found it in my chamber: And he himself confess'd, but even now, That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose, Which wrought to his desire.

Oth.

O fool! fool! fool! Cas. There is besides, in Roderigo's letter,How he upbraids lago, that he made him That I was cast: And even but now he spake, Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came After long seeming dead,-lago hurt him, Iago set him on.

Lod. You must forsake this room and go with us
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,-
If there be any cunning cruelty,

That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his: You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state: Come, bring away.

Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you go.

I have done the state some service,and they know it;
No more of that:-I pray you, in your letters,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,

Nor set down aught in malice: then must you

speak

Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Júdean, threw a pearl away,
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdued
eyes,

Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum: Set you down this:
And say, besides,-That in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduced the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him-thus.

Lod. O bloody period!
Gra.

[Stabs himself.

All, that's spoke, is marr'd. Oth. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee;-No way but this, [Falling upon DESDEMONA. Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies. Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon: For he was great of heart.

Lod. O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! Look on the tragic loading of this bed; [To IAGO. This is thy work: the object poisons sight;Let it be hid.-Gratiano, keep the house, And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, For they succeed to you.-To you, lord governor, Remains the censure of this hellish villain; The time, the place, the torture,-O enforce it! Myself will straight abroad; and, to the state, This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

[Exeunt

RIGHT HONORABLE,

Your Honor's in all duty,

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

EVEN as the sun with purple-color'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase:
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.
Thrice fairer than myself, (thus she began,)
The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.
Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And reign his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favor, for thy meed
A thousand honey-secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where serpent never hisses,
And, being set, I'll smother thee with kisses:
And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety;
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.
With this, she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.
Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;

She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

The studded birdle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens; (O how quick is love!)
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:

Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.

So soon was she along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
"If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'
He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks:
Then with her windy sighs, and golden hairs,
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks:

He saith, she is immodest, blames her 'miss;
What follows more, she smothers with a kiss.
Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff'd, or prey be gone;
Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where she ends, she doth anew begin.
Forced to content, but never to obey,
Panting he lies, and breathing in her face;
She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace,
Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.
Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies;
Pure shame and aw'd resistance made him fret,
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:
Rain added to a river that is rank,
Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;
Still is he sullen, still he low'rs and frets,
"Twixt crimson shame and anger, ashy pale;
Being red, she loves him best; and being white,
Her best is better'd with a more delight.
Look how he can, she cannot choose br: love;
And by her fair immortal hand she swats
From his soft bosom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all
wet;

And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.
Upon this promise did he raise his chine
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,
Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in;
So offers he to give what she did crave;

But when her lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way.

Never did passenger in summer's heat
More thirst for drink, than she for this good turn:
Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:

"Oh pity," 'gan she cry," flint-hearted boy; 'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, Even by the stern and direful god of war, Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow, Who conquers where he comes, in every jar, Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have.

Over my altars hath he hung his lance,
His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest,
And for my sake hath learned to sport and dance,
To coy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest;
Scorning his churlish drum, and ensign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.
Thus he that overrul'd, I oversway'd,
Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:
Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obey'd,
Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.

O be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For mast ring her that foil'd the god of fight!
Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,
(Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red,)
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine:-

What see'st thou in the ground! hold up thy head;
Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies:
Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?
Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again,
And I will wink, so shall the day seem night:
Love keeps his revels where there are but twain,
Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight:

These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean,
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.

The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted;
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:
Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime,

Rot and consume themselves in little time.
Were I hard-favor'd, foul, or wrinkled-old,
Ill-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,
O'er-worn, despised, rheumatic, and cold,
Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice,
Then might'st thou pause, for then I were not
for thee;

But having no defects, why dost abhor me?

Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow;
Mine eyes are grey,' and bright, and quick in turning;
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,
My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning;
My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,
Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.
Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green,
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair,
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:

Grey is said to be here used as blue. We have subsequently

"Her two blue windows faintly she upheaveth."

Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; These forceless flower like sturdy trees support me; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky,

From morn till right, even where I list to sport

me:

Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, Steal thine own freedom, and complain of theft. Narcissus so, himself himself forsook, And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth

beauty,

Thou wast begot-to get it is thy duty.
Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed,
Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?
By law of Nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live, when thou thyself art dead,
And so in spite of death thou dost survive,
In that thy likeness still is left alive."

By this the love-sick queen began to sweat,
For, where they lay, the shadow had forsook them,
And Titan, 'tired in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them;

Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
So he were like him, and by Venus' side.
And now Adonis, with a lazy spright,
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
His low'ring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapors when they blot the sky,

Souring his cheeks, cries, "Fie! no more of love;
The sun doth burn my face; I must remove."
"Ah me," quoth Venus, "young, and so unkind!
What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone!
I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun;

I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs:
If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.
The sun that shines from heaven, shines but warm,
And lo, I lie between that sun and thee;
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me:
And were I not immortal, life were done,
Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel,
Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth?
Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel
What 'tis to love! how want of love tormenteth?
O had thy mother borne so hard a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.
What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this?
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss!
Speak, fair, but speak words, or else be mute:
Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again,
And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.
Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well painted idol, image dull and dead,
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred;

Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion,
For men will kiss even by their own direction."
This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong;
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause;
And now she weeps, and now she fain would

speak,

And now her sobs do her intendments break. Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand, Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; Sometimes her arms infold him like a band; She would, he will not in her arms be bound: