She comes more near the earth than fhe was wont,
And makes men mad.

Eil. Caffio, my Lord, hath killed
A young Venetian, called Rodorigo.
Oth. Rodorigo killed? and Caffio killed?
Emil. No, Caffio is not killed.

Oth. Not Caffio killed? then murder's out of tune, harsh.

And fweet revenge grows

Def. Oh falfely, falfely murdered !---
Emil. Alas, what cry is that?

Oth. That? what?

Emil. Out, and alas! that was my Lady's voice.. Help! help, hoa! help! oh Lady, fpeak again; Sweet Defdemona! oh, fweet mistress, speak. Def. A guiltlefs death I die.

Emil. Oh, who hath done this deed?
Def. No body, I myfelf, farewel;

Commend me to my kind Lord; oh, farewel. [Dies.
Oth. Why, how thould fhe be murdered?
Emil. Alas, who knows?

Oth. You heard her fay herself, it was not I.
Emil. She faid fo, I muft needs report the truth
Oth. She's like a liar gone to burning hell;
'Twas I that killed her.

mit. Oh, the more angel fhe, and you the

blacker devil.

Oth. She turned to folly, and fhe was a whore. Emil. Thou doft bely her, and thou art a devil. Oth. She was falfe as water.

Emil. Thou art rafh as fire, to fay

That she was falfe. Oh, fhe was heavenly true.
Oth. Caffio did tup her; afk thy husband elfe.
Oh, I were damned beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon juft grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
Emil. My husband !

Oth Thy husband.

Emil, That she was falfe to wedlock?

Oth. Ay, with Caffio. Had the been true, If. Heaven would make me fuch another world, Of one entire and perfect Chryfolite, I'd not have fold her for it.

Emil. My husband!

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

An honeft man he is, and hates the flime
That sticks on filthy deeds.

Emil. My husband!

Oth. What needs this iteration, woman?

I fay, thy hufband.

Emil. Oh mistress! villainy has made mocks with My husband fay she was false!

Oth. He, woman;

[love,

I fay, thy husband; do'ft understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honeft, honest lago.
Emil If he fays fo, may his pernicious foul
Rot half a grain a-day! he lyes 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'ng.
Than thou wait worthy her.

Oth. Peace, you were beft.

Æmil. Thou haft not half that power to do me As I have to be hurt: oh gull! oh dolt! [harm, As ignorant as dirt! thou't done a deed—. 1 care not for thy fword, I'll make thee known, Though I lost twenty lives-Help! help, hoa! help! The Moor hath killed my miftrefs. Murder, murder !! Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others.. Mon. What is the matter? how now, General?!

Emil. Oh, are you come, Iago? you have done

well,

That men muft lay their murders on your

Gra. What is the matter?

neck.

Emil. Difprove this, villain, if thou be'ft a man ;. He fays thou toldest him that his wife was falfe: I know thou didst not; thou'rt not fuch 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 fhe was falfe? lago. I did.

Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie: Upon my foul, a lie; a wicked lie.

She falfe with Caffio? did you fay, with Caffio? Iago. With Caffio, mistress; go to, charm your tongue.

Emil. I will not charm my tongue; I'm bound to speak;

My mistress lyes here murdered on her bed.

All. Oh Heavens forfend!

Emil. And your reports have fet the murder on. Oth. Nay, ftare not, masters; it is true, indeed. Gra. 'Tis a frange truth.

Mon. Oh monftrous a&t!

Emil. Villainy villainy! villainy!

I think upon't---I think---I smell't--ch villainy ! I thought fo then; I'll kill myfelf for grief;Oh villainy, villainy!

Lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now: Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

[fpeak:

Oth. Oh, oh, oh! [Othello falls on the Bed.

Emil. Nay, lay thee down and roar: For thou haft killed the sweetest innocent.

That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth. Oh, fhe was foul!

[Rifing.

Ifcarce did know you, uncle; there lyes your niece,

Whofe breath indeed thefe hands have newly stopped.

I know this act fhews horrible and grim.

Gra. Poor Defdemona! 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 defperate turn;
Yea, curfe his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That fhe with Caffio had the act of fhame
A thousand times committed. Caffio confefs'd it;
And fhe did gratify his amorous works,
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I faw it in his hand;
It was an handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

Emil. Oh Heavn! oh heav'nly powers!
Iago. Come, hold your peace.

Emil. Twill out, 'twill out !---I, peace!
No, I will speak as liberal as the air;

Let Heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all cry fhame against me, yet I'll speak.
Iago. Be wife, and get you home.

Emil. I will not. [lago offers to ftab his Wife.
Gra. Fy, your fword upon a woman?

Emil. Ch, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief
thou speakest of,

I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often, with a folemn earnestuefs,

(More than, indeed, belonged to such a trifle) He begged of me to steal it.

lago. Villainous whore!

Emil. She gave it Caffio? alas, I found it, And I did give't my husband.

Iago. Filth, thou lieft.

Emil. By Heav'n, I do not; I do not, gentlemen:: Oh murd'rous coxcomb! what should fuch a fool Do with fo good a wife?

[lago breaks through and wounds his Wife, then runs out.

Oth. Are there no ftones in heaven

But what ferve for the thunder? precious villain! Gra. The woman falls; fure, he has killed his wife.

Emil Ay, ay; oh, Jay me by my mistress' fide.
Gra. He's gone, but his wife is killed.

Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain; take this weapon, Which I have here recovered from the Moor: Come, guard the door without, let him not pass, But kill him rather; I'll after that fame villain, For 'tis a damned flave. [Exeunt Mon. and Gra Oth. I am not valiant neither;

But every puny whipster gets my fword.
But why thould honour outlive honefty?
Let it go all.

Emil. What did thy fong bode, Lady?
Hark, canft thou hear me? I will play the fwan,
And die in mufic; " Willow, willow, willow"--.
Moor, fhe was chaste; fhe loved thee, cruel Moor;
So come my foul to blifs as I fpeak true;
So fpeaking as I think, alas, I die. [Æmilia dies.
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,
It was a fword of Spain, the Ebro's temper;
Oh, here it is: Uncle, 1 muft come forth.

Gra. within.] If thou attempt it, it will coft thee: dear;