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For thou hast kill'd the sweetest Innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.
Otb. Oh, she was foul!

I scarce did know you, Uncle. There lies your Niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stoppid.
I know, this act shews horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm 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 fight would make him do a desperate turn;
Yea, curse his better Angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.

Otb. 'Tis pitiful; but yet lago knows,
That she with Cafro had the act of shame
| A thousand times committed. Cofio confest it;
And she did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

. Oh heaven! oh heavenly Powers!
lago. Come, hold your peace.
Æmil. 'Twill out,' 'cwill out I hold my peace?

Sir! no!
No, I will speak as liberal as the North;
Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all cry shame against me, yet l'll speak.

Iago. Be wise, and get you home.
Æmil. I will not.

[lago offers to stab his wife.
Gra. Fy, your sword upon a woman?
Æmil. Oh, thou dull Moor! That handkerchief,

thou speak'st of, I found by fortune, and did give my husband;

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2. A thousand times committed. --} comprised in the action of this This is another passage which play than the scenes include. feems to foppose a longer space

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 !

Æmil. She gave it Casio?-alas, I found it, And I did giv't my husband.

Iago. Filth, thou lielt.

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? [The Moor runs at Iago, who breaks through and

wounds his wife; then runs out. Oib. 3 Are there no stones in heav'n, But what serve for the thunder ? Precious villain !

Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has killed his wife. Æmil. Ay, ay ; oh, lay me by my mistress' side. Gra. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain ; take 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 'cis a damned slave. [Exeunt Mon, and Gra.

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

3 Are there no flomes in heav’n, Are there no stones in heav'n? BUT WHAT SERVE for the FOR WHAT THEN SERVES The thunder?-) What occa

tbinder ? fion for other, when those would i e, are there no boles in heaven serve his purpose? For he want for this villain ? for what pur. ed a thunderbolt for lazo. With- pose then serves the thunder, out question, Shakespeare wrote, that inftrument of its vengeance ? and pointed the line thus,



Æmil. What did'tby Song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou bear me? I will play the swan, And die in mufick. 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, alas, I die. [Æmilia dies.

Oih. I have another weapon in this chamber, It was a sword of Spein, 4 the ice-brook's temper; Oh, here it is. Uncle I must come forth.

Gra. (within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost the

dear ;

Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

Otb. 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?

Otb. Lo! I have a weapon : A better never did itself fustain 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! What can controul his fate? 'tis not so now, Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; Here is my journey's end, bere is my Butt, The very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay'd ? 'tis a loft fear : Man but a ruh against Othello's breast,

4-the icebrook's temper ;] In world are the Cata'onian fufees. the first edit on it is, Jebroke's

PoPE, , temper. Thence corrupted, to

I believe the old reading Ice-brook's. -Ebro's temper; the changed to ic-lrook is right, waters of that river of Spain, are Steel is lrardened by being put particularly famous for tempering red hot into very cold water. of steel, 'The finest arms in the

And be retires. Where should, Othello go?
Now-how dost thou look now ? ob ill-starr'd Wench!
Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heav'n,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girl,
Ev'n like thy chastity. O cursed Nave!
Whip me, ye Devils,
From the poffeffion of this heavenly sight;
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire.
Oh Desdemona! Desdemona! dead, dead! oh, oh!

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Enter Lodovico, Callio led in wounded, Montano, and

lago prisoner, with Officers. Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? Oth. That's he, that was Orbello. Here I am. Lod. Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth. Otb. I look downstow'rds his feet; 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. lago. I bleed, Sir, but not killd.

Oib. I am not sorry, neither. I'd have thee live. For, in my sense, 'ris happiness to die.

Lod. Ch thou, Othello, that wast once so good,
Fall’n in the practice of a cursed Nave,
What shall be said to thee?

Oth. Why, any thing;
An honourable murd'rer, if you will,
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.


5-tow'rds b's feet;-) To fee -in the praflice-] In the if, according to the common op- frare, by the stratagem. nion, his feet be cloven. H h 2


Lod. This wretch hath part confest h s villainy. Did you and he consent in Casio's death?

oib. sy.

Caf. Dear General, I never gave you Cause.

Oib. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demy-devil, Why he hath thus ensnar’d my soul and body? Iago. 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 bet.

Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know. Here is a letter,
Found in the pocker of the Nain Rodorigo,
And here, another; one of them imports
The death of Caffio to be undertook
By Rodorigo.

Oib. Oh villain !
Caf. Mot heathenish and most gross !
Lód. Now, here's another discontented

Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
Roderigo mea t t' have sent this damned villain,
But that, b:like, logo? in the interim
Came in and satisfy'd him.

Otb. O chou pernicious caitiff!
How came you, Caffio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's ?
Cal. I fou d it in


And he himfulf confelt it but ev'n now,
That there he dropt it for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his esire.

Oih. Oh foul, fool, fool!

7 --- in the interim] The revisal, that nik was too famifir? copies have, in the nick. It liar. was, I fuppose, thought upon


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