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Stay you, good gentlewoman:

mistress?

look you pale,

Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon:
Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her;
Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will
speak,

Though tongues were out of use.

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Emil. 'Las, what's the matter; what's the matter, husband?

Iago. Cassio hath here been set on in the dark,

By Roderigo, and fellows that are scap'd;
He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

Emil. Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cas

sio!

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Iago. This is the fruit of whoring. Pr'ythee, Emilia,

Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to

night:

What, do you shake at that? To Binca

Bian. He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not.

Iago. O, did he so? I charge you, go with

me.

Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!

Bian. I am no strumpet; but of life as honest,

As you that thus abuse me.

Emil. As I? foh! fie upon thee!

Iago. Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio drefs'd:

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Emilia, run you to the citadel,

And tell my lord and lady what has happ'd. Will you go on, 1 pray? This is the night,

[Aside.

That either makes me, or fordoes me quite.

[Exeunt.

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A Bed-chamber: DESDEMONA in bed, asleep. 4 light burning.

Enter OTHELLO.

Oth. It is the cause,

soul,

it is the cause, my

Let me not name it to you, you chaste

stars!

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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,

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It needs must wither: I'll smell it on the [kissing her.

tree.

O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice herself to break her sword! Once

Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill

more.

thee,

And love thee after:

the last:

Once more, and this

So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heaven-

ly;

It strikes, where it doth love.

Des. Who's there? Othello?

Oth. Ay, Desdemona,

She wakes

Des. Will you come to bed, my lord?
Oth. Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?
Des. Ay, my lord.

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime, Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.

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Des. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by

that?

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

by:

I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;

No, Heaven forefend!

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thy soul.

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I would not kill

Des. Talk you of killing?

Oth. Ay, I do.

Des. Then, heaven

Have mercy on me!

Oth. Amen, with all my heart!

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

me.

Oth. Humph!

Des. 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.

Oth. Think on thy sins.

Des. They are loves I bear to you.

Oth. Ay, and for that thou dy'st.

Des. 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.

Oth. Peace, and be still!

Des. I will so: What's the matter?

Oth. That handkerchief, which I so lov'd, and gave thee,

Thou gav'st to Cassio.

Des. No, by my life and soul; Send for the man, and ask him.

Oth. Sweet soul, take heed,

Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.

Des. Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth. Yes, presently:

Therefore confefs thee freely of thy sin;
For to deny each article with oath,

Cannot remove, nor choke, the strong concep

tion

That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

Des. Then, Lord have mercy on me!

Oth. I say, amen.

Des. 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. Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand.

O perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart, And mak'st me call, what I intend to do, →

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