William Shakespeare

Othello


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Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d.—

       Come, mistress, you must tell’s another tale.—

       Emilia, run you to the citadel,

       And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d.—

       Will you go on afore? [Aside.] This is the night

       That either makes me or fordoes me quite.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE II. Cyprus. A Bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.

       [Enter Othello.]

       OTHELLO

       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:

       If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

       I can again thy former light restore,

       Should I repent me:—but once put out thy light,

       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 must needs 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.

       DESDEMONA

       Who’s there? Othello?

       OTHELLO

       Ay, Desdemona.

       DESDEMONA

       Will you come to bed, my lord?

       OTHELLO

       Have you pray’d tonight, Desdemona?

       DESDEMONA

       Ay, my lord.

       OTHELLO

       If you bethink yourself of any crime

       Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace,

       Solicit for it straight.

       DESDEMONA

       Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?

       OTHELLO

       Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.

       I would not kill thy unpreparèd spirit;

       No,—heaven forfend!—I would not kill thy soul.

       DESDEMONA

       Talk you of killing?

       OTHELLO

       Ay, I do.

       DESDEMONA

       Then heaven have mercy on me!

       OTHELLO

       Amen, with all my heart!

       DESDEMONA

       If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

       OTHELLO

       Hum!

       DESDEMONA

       And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then

       When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,

       Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

       OTHELLO

       Think on thy sins.

       DESDEMONA

       They are loves I bear to you.

       OTHELLO

       Ay, and for that thou diest.

       DESDEMONA

       That death’s unnatural that kills for loving.—

       Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?

       Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:

       These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,

       They do not point on me.

       OTHELLO

       Peace, and be still!

       DESDEMONA

       I will so. What’s the matter?

       OTHELLO

       That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee

       Thou gav’st to Cassio.

       DESDEMONA

       No, by my life and soul!

       Send for the man, and ask him.

       OTHELLO

       Sweet soul, take heed,

       Take heed of perjury; thou’rt on thy deathbed.

       DESDEMONA

       Ay, but not yet to die.

       OTHELLO

       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.

       DESDEMONA

       Then, Lord have mercy on me!

       OTHELLO

       I say, amen.

       DESDEMONA

       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.

       OTHELLO

       By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in ‘s 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.

       DESDEMONA

       He found it then;

       I never gave it him:—send for him hither;

       Let him confess a truth.

       OTHELLO

       He hath confess’d.

       DESDEMONA

       What, my lord?

       OTHELLO

       That he hath us’d thee.

       DESDEMONA

       How? unlawfully?

       OTHELLO

       Ay.

       DESDEMONA

       He will not say so.