Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very seamark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismayed? 't is a lost fear:
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires-where should Othello go?-
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starred

wench,

Pale as thy smock! When we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it! Cold, cold, my girl?
Even like thy chastity.—

O curséd, 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 gulfs of liquid fire !—
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead?
Dead?-O! O! O!

Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO; CASSIO, carried in a chair; and Officers, with IAGO, prisoner.

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.

Oth. I look down towards his feet:-but that's a fable:

If that thou beest 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;

Oth. Ay.

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause.
Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you,
I pray you, demand that demi-devil
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
Iago. Demand me nothing: what you know,
you know:

From this time forth I never will speak word.
Lod. What, not to pray?

Gra. Torments will ope your lips.
Oth. Well, thou dost best.

Lod. Sir, you shall understand what hath be

Which,

fallen;

as I think, you know not:-here is a letter

That can torment him much and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state.-Come, bring him away.
Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they

know it:

No more of that:-I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you
speak

Of one that loved not wisely, but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Júdean, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one whose súbdued
eyes,

Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their médicinal gum.-Set you down this:-
And say, besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turbaned Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,

Look on the tragic loading of this bed: [To IAGO.
This is thy work.-The object poisons sight:
Let it be hid.-Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Mcor,
For they succeed to you.-To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
The time, the place, the torture,-O enforce it!
Myself will straight aboard; and to the state,
This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt.