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Whose breath indeed these hands have newly

stopped. I know this act shews horrible and grim. [dead :

Gra. Poor Desdemona! I'm glad thy father's 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, (80) And fall to reprobation.

Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio had the act of shame
A thousand times committed. Cassio confess'd 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.

Æmil. O Heav'n! oh heav'nly powers !
Iago. Come, hold your peace.

Æmil. '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 shame against me, yet l'll speak.

lago. Be wise, and get you home.

(80) His better angel from his side. At Brabantio's side in the moon there is a likeness of a winged angel, as before drawn in fig. 63.

Æmil. I will not. [Iago offers to stab his Wife.
Gra. Fie, your sword upon a woman?
Æmil. Oh, thou dull Moor! that handkerchief

thou speakest of,
I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
(More than indeed belonged to such a trifle)
He begged of me to steal it.

Iago. Villainous whore !

Æmil. She gave it Cassio ? alas, I found it, And I did giv't my husband. ; Iago. Filth thou liest.

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? . [lago breaks through and wounds

· his Wife, then runs out. Oth. Are there no stones in heaven . 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 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 same villain, For 'tis a damned slave. [Exeunt Mon. and Gra.

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Oth. I am not valiant neither ;
But every puny whipster (81) gets my sword.
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.

Æmil. 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 loved thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, alas, I die. [Æmilia dies.

Oth. I have another weapon (82) in this chamber, It was a sword of Spain, the Ebro's temper; Oh, 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?

(81) Puny whipster. By a reference to the prototype of Montano, as drawn in fig. 101, he will be seen to be short or dwarfish in size.

(82) I take this other weapon to allude to the strong marked streak of light on Rodorigo's face, which would fall about the thigh of Othello, and in that reversed position would have the shape of a scymitar.

Oth. Lo! I have a weapon : Abetter never did itself sustain 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! Who can controul his fate? 'tis not so now. Be not afraid, tho' you do see me weaponed; Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, The very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismayed ? 'tis a lost fear: Man but a rush (83) against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now- how dost thou look now? oh, ill-starred

wench! Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurt my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl, Even like thy chastity. O 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 gulphs of liquid fire Oh Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead, dead ! oh!

oh!

(83) Man but a rush. Observe in the moon the appear. ance of rushes, in the streaks of light on Othello's breast.

Enter Lodovico, Cassio led in wounded, Mon

TANO, and Iago prisoner, with Officers. 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.

(that's a fable. Oth. I look down towards his feet; (84) but 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 killed. Oth. I am not sorry neither: I'd have thee live; For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. Oh thou, Othello, that wast once so good,
Fall'n in the practice of a cursed slave,-
What shall be said to thee ?

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

Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy; Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

Oth. Ay.

(84) I look down towards his feet. There is, in fact, towards Iago's feet, the resemblance of a cloven foot, as of the devil: it is made up of the bonnet of Cassio, (or Talgol,) with a streak of light dividing it into two parts.

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