Puslapio vaizdai
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Def. Oh Heav'n have Mercy on me.
Oth. I fay, Amen.

Def. And have you Mercy too; I never did
Offend you in my Life; never lov'd Caffio,
But with fuch general warranty of Heav'n,
As I might love. I never gave him Token.

Oth. By Heav'n Ifaw my Handkerchief in's Hand.
O perjur'd Woman! thou doft ftone my Heart,
And makeft me call, what I intend to do,
A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.
I faw the Handkerchief.

Def. He found it then

;

I never gave it him; fend for him hither,
Let him confess a Truth.

Oth. He hath confeft.
Def. What, my Lord?

Oth. That he hath us'd thee.

Def. How? unlawfully?

Oth. Ay.

Def. He will not fay fo.

Oth. No, his Mouth is ftopp'd;

Honeft Fago hath ta'en Order for't.

Def. Oh, my fear interprets. What is he dead?
Oth. Had all his Hairs been Lives,my great Revenge

Had Stomach for them all..

Def. Alas, he is betray'd, and I undone.

Oth. Out Strumpet! weep'ft thou for him to my face ?
Def. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not.

Oth. Down, Strumpet.

Def. Kill me to morrow, let me live to night.
Oth. Nay, if you strive.

Def. But half an Hour

Oth. Being done, there is no Paule.

Def. But while I fay one Prayer

Oth. It is too late.

Emilia at the Door.

Amil. My Lord, my Lord! What hoa!

My Lord, my Lord!

[Smothers her.

Oth. What Noife is this? not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruel, am yet merciful,

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I would not have thee linger in thy Pain.

So, fo.

Emil. within.] What hoa! my Lord, my Lord!
Oth. Who's there?

Amil. Oh, my good Lord, I would fpeak a word with you.

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fhe's dead,
Oth. Yes, 'tis Emilia --- by and by
'Tis like fhe comes to fpeak of Caffio's Death;
The noife was high. Hah, no more moving?
Still as the Grave. Shall the come in? were't good?
I think the ftirs again ---- No what's beft to do?
If the come in, fhe'll fure fpeak to my Wife;
My Wife! my Wife! what Wife? I have no Wife.
Oh infupportable! Oh heavy Hour!

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Methinks it should be now a huge Eclipfe

Of Sun and Moon, and that the affrighted Globe
Did yawn at Alteration

Emil. I do beseech you

That I may speak with you. Oh, good my Lord!

Oth. I had forgot thee; Oh come in, Æmilia.

Soft, by and by, let me the Curtains draw,

Where art thou? what's the matter with thee now?
Enter Emilia.

Æmil. Oh, my good Lord, yonder's foul Murthers done.

Oth. What? now?

Emil. But now, my Lord.

Oth. It is the very error of the Moon,

She comes more nearer Earth than fhe was wont,

And makes Men mad,

Amil. Caffio, my Lord, hath kill'd

A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo.
Oth. Roderigo kill'd? and Caffio kill'd?
Emil. No, Caffio is not kill'd.

Oth. Not Caffiokill'd? Then Murther's out of tune,
And fweet Revenge grows harsh.
Def. O falfely, falfely murder'd.
Æmil. Alas! what cry is that?
Oth. That? what?

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Amil. Out, and alas, that was my Lady's Voice,
Help! help hoa! help! Oh Lady fpeak again,
Sweet Desdemona, oh fweet Miftrefs, fpeak.
Def. A guiltless Death I die.

Emil. Oh who hath done this Deed?
Def. No body, I my felf, farewel;
Commend me to my kind Lord; oh farewel.
Oth. Why, how fhould fhe be Murder'd?
Emil. Alas! who knows?

Oth. You hear her fay her felf, it was not I.
Amil. She faid fo, I muft needs report the Truth.
Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning Hell,

'Twas I that kill'd her.

[Dies.

Amil. Oh the more Angel fhe, and you the blacker Devil.

Oth. She turn'd to Folly, and fhe was a Whore.
Amil. Thou do'ft bely her, and thou art a Devil.
Oth. She was falfe as Water.

Amil. Thou art rafh as Fire, to fay

That he was falfe. Oh fhe was heav'nly true.
Oth. Caffio did top her; ask thy Husband elfe.
O, 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.
Amil. My Husband!

Oth. Thy Husband.

Emil. That she was falfe to Wedlock?
Oth. Ay, with Caffio: Had he been true,
If Heav'n would make me fuch another World,
Of one entire and perfe& Chryfolite,

I'd not have fold her for it.

Amil. My Husband?

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first;

An honest Man he is, and hates the Slime

That fticks on filthy Deeds.

Amil. My Husband?

Oth. What needs this Iterance, Woman?

I fay thy Husband.

Emil. Oh Miftrefs! Villany has made mocks with

Love:

My

My Husband fays fhe was falfe?

Oth. He, Woman;

I fay thy Husband; do'ft understand the word?
My Friend, thy Husband, honeft, honeft Jago.

Emil. If he fay fo, may his pernicious Soul
Rot half a grain a Day; he lies to th' Heart,
She was too fond of her moft filthy Bargain."
Oth. Hah?

Emil. Do thy worst :

This Deed of thine is no more worthy Heav'n, 1
Than thou waft worthy her.

Oth. Peace, you were beft.

Emil. Thou haft not half that Power to do me harm
As I have to be hurt, Oh Gull! oh Dolt!
As ignorant as Dirt; thou haft done a deed
I care not for thy Sword, I'll make thee known,
Though I loft twenty Lives---Help! help! hoa! help!
The Moor hath kill'd my Mistress. Murther, murther!
Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Jago.

Mon. What is the matter? How now, General?
Amil. Oh, are you come, Jago? You have done well,
That Men muft lay their Murthers on your Neck.
Gra. What is the matter?

Emil. Difprove this Villain, if thou be'ft a Man,
He fays thou toldft him that his Wife was false :
I know thou didst not, thou'rt not fuch a Villain.
Speak, for my Heart is full.

Jago. I told him what I thought; and told no more
Than what he found himfelf was apt and true.
Emil. But did you ever tell him, fhe was falfe?
Jago. I did.

Emil. You told a Lie, an odious damned Lie:
Upon my Soul a Lie ; a wicked Lie.

She falfe with Caffio? did you fay with Caffio?

Jago. With Caffio, Miftrefs, go to, charm your Tongue. Emil. I will not charm my Tongue; I am bound to speak,

My Mistress here lies murthered in her Bed.

All. Oh Heav'ns forefend !

Emil. And your reports have fet the Murther on.
Oth. Nay, ftare not, Masters, it is true indeed.
Gra. 'Tis a ftrange Truth.

Mon. Oh monftrous A&t.

Amil. Villany! villany! villany!

I think upon't --- I think ---- I smell't ---- O villany!
I thought fo then; I'll kill my felf for Grief,
O Villany, Villany!

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

home.

Amil, Good Gentlemen, let me have leave to speak;
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now :
Perchance, Jago, I will ne'er go home.
Oth. Oh! oh! oh!

Amil. Nay, lay thee down and roar :
For thou haft kili'd the fweeteft Innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth. Oh fhe was foul!

I fcarce did know you, Uncle; there lyes your Niece,
Whose Breath indeed, thefe Hands have newly stop'd;
I know this A& fhews 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 fight would make him do a defperate turn;
Yea, curfe his better Angel from his fide,
And ifall to Reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pitiful, but yet Jago knows,
That the with Caffio hath the act of Shame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confeft it,
And fhe did gratifie his amorous Works,
With that Recognizance and Pledge of Love,
Which I first gave her; I faw it in his Hand;
It was a Handkerchief, an antick Token
My Father gave my Mother.

Amil. Oh Heav'n! Oh heav'nly Powers!
Jago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. Twill out, 'twill out

No, I will speak as liberal as the North,

I peace!

Let

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