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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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SCENE II. A Bedchamber: Desdemona in bed asleep. A Light burning. Enter Othello.

Oth.
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,—
Let me not name it5 note

to you, you chaste stars6 note



!—

-- 463 --


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 men7 note.
Put out the light, and then put out the light8 note

















:

-- 464 --


If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,

-- 465 --


Should I repent me:—but once put out thine9 note,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature1 note,
I know not where is that Promethean heat,
That can thy light relume2 note



. When I have pluck'd thy rose3 note



,

-- 466 --


I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must 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 heavenly4 note


;
It strikes, where it doth love.—She wakes—

Des.
Who's there? Othello?

Oth.
Ay, Desdemona.

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.

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

-- 467 --

Oth.
Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
No,—Heaven forefend!—I would not kill thy soul5 note



.

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 so6 note
: Why I should fear, I know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet, I feel, I fear7 note


.

-- 468 --

Oth.
Think on thy sins.

Des.
They are loves I bear to you.

Oth.
Ay, and for that thou diest.

Des.
That death's unnatural, that kills for loving8 note




.—
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'rt on thy death-bed.

Des.
Ay, but not yet to die.

Oth.
Yes, presently:
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
For to deny each article with oath,
Cannot remove, nor choke, the strong conception,

-- 469 --


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,—
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice9 note

:
I saw the handkerchief.

Des.
He found it then;
I never gave it him:—Send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth.

Oth.
He hath confess'd.

Des.
What, my lord?

Oth.
That he hath—us'd thee1 note
.

Des.
How? unlawfully?

Oth.
Ay.

Des.
He'll not say so.

-- 470 --

Oth.
No, his mouth is stopp'd;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't1 note


.

Des.
My fear interprets then, — What, is he dead?

Oth.
Had all his hairs been lives2 note








, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.

Des.
Alas! he is betray'd, and I undone.

Oth.
Out, strumpet! Weep'st thou for him to my face?

Des.
O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not.

Oth.
Down, strumpet!

Des.
Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night.

Oth.
Nay, if you strive,—

Des.
But half an hour.

Oth.
Being done,
There is no pause3 note
.

-- 471 --

Des.
But while I say one prayer.

Oth.
It is too late4 note

. [He smothers her.

Emil. [Within.]
My lord, my lord! what ho! my lord! my lord!

Oth.
What noise is this?—Not dead! not yet quite dead?
I, that am cruel, am yet merciful;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain.—
So, so.

Emil. [Within.]
What ho! my lord, my lord!

Oth.
Who's there?

Emil. [Within.]
O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you.

Oth.
Yes; — 'tis Emilia:—by and by.—She's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death;
The noise was high.—Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't good?
I think, she stirs again:—No.—What's the best?

-- 472 --


If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
My wife! my wife! what wife?—I have no wife5 note:
O, insupportable! O heavy hour6 note!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.

Emil. [Within.]
I do beseech you I may speak with you,
O, good my lord!

Oth.
I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia:—
Soft,—by and by:—Let me the curtains draw.—
Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now?
[Unlocks the Door. Enter Emilia.

Emil.
O, good my lord, yonder's foul murder done.

Oth.
What? now?

Emil.
But now, my lord!

Oth.
It is the very error of the moon;
She comes more near the earth than she was wont;
And makes men mad7 note



.

Emil.
Cassio, my lord, has kill'd a young Venetian,
Call'd—Roderigo.

-- 473 --

Oth.
Roderigo kill'd!
And Cassio kill'd?

Emil.
No, Cassio is not kill'd.

Oth.
Not Cassio kill'd? Then murder's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.

Des.
O, falsely, falsely murder'd8 note











!

-- 474 --

Emil.
Alas! what cry is that?

Oth.
That! what?

Emil.
Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice:—
Help! help, ho! help!—O lady, speak again!
Sweet Desdemona! O, sweet mistress, speak!

Des.
A guiltless death I die.

Emil.
O, who hath done
This deed?

Des.
Nobody; I myself; farewell:
Commend me to my kind lord; O, farewell.
[Dies.

Oth.
Why, how should she be murder'd?

Emil.
Alas, who knows?

Oth.
You heard her say herself, it was not I.

Emil.
She said so; I must needs report the truth.

Oth.
She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell9 note



;
'Twas I that kill'd her.

Emil.
O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil!

Oth.
She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore1 note


.

-- 475 --

Emil.
Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil

Oth.
She was false as water2 note

.

Emil.
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

Oth.
Cassio did tup her; ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity3 note

; Thy husband knew it all.

Emil.
My husband?

Oth.
Thy husband.

Emil.
That she was false to wedlock?

Oth.
Ay, with Cassio.
Nay, had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite4 note,
I'd not have sold her for it.

Emil.
My husband?

Oth.
Ay, 'twas he that told me first5 note:
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.

Emil.
My husband?

-- 476 --

Oth.
What needs this iterance5 note, woman? I say, thy husband.

Emil.6 note
O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love7 note!—
My husband say, that she was false?

Oth.
He, woman;
I say, thy husband; Dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

Emil.
If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart;
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

Oth.
Ha!

Emil.
Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven,
Than thou wast worthy her.

Oth.
Peace, you were best.

Emil.
Thou hast not half the power to do me harm,
As I have to be hurt8 note






. O gull! O dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed,—
I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,

-- 477 --


Though I lost twenty lives:—Help! help, ho! help!
The Moor has kill'd my mistress; Murder! murder! Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.

Mon.
What is the matter?—How now, general?

Emil.
O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.

Gra.
What is the matter?

Emil.
Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false:
I know, thou didst not, thou'rt not such 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, she was false?

Iago.
I did.

Emil.
You told a lie; an odious, damned lie;
Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie:—
She false with Cassio!—Did you say with Cassio?

Iago.
With Cassio, mistress; Go to, charm your tongue9 note








.

-- 478 --

Emil.
I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak;
My mistress1 note here lies murder'd in her bed.

All.
O heavens forefend!

Emil.
And your reports have set the murder on.

Oth.
Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.

Gra.
'Tis a strange truth.

Mon.
O monstrous act!

Emil.
Villainy, villainy, villainy!—
I think upon't,—I think,—I smell't;—O villainy!
I thought so then2 note


;—I'll kill myself for grief.—
O villainy, villainy!

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

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

Oth.
O! O! O!
[Hanging over his Wife.

Emil.
Nay, lay thee down, and roar;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That e'er did lift up eye.

Oth.
O, she was foul!— [Rising.

-- 479 --


I scarce did know you, uncle: There lies your niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
I know, this act shows horrible and grim.

Gra.
Poor Desdemona! I am 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 sight would make him do a desperate turn,
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation3 note



.

Oth.
'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows,
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed4 note










; Cassio confess'd it:

-- 480 --


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 a handkerchief5 note







, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

-- 481 --

Emil.
O heaven! O heavenly powers!

Iago.
Come, hold your peace.

Emil.
'Twill out, 'twill out;—I hold my peace, sir? no;
No, I will speak as liberal as the air6 note






;

-- 482 --


Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

Iago.
Be wise, and get you home.

Emil.
I will not.
[Iago offers to stab his Wife.

Gra.
Fye!
Your sword upon a woman?

Emil.
O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of,
I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,)
He begg'd of me to steal it.

Iago.
Villainous whore!

Emil.
She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it,
And I did give't my husband.

Iago.
Filth, thou liest.

Emil.
By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen:
O murd'rous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a wife?
[Iago stabs Emilia, then runs out.

Oth.
Are there no stones in heaven,
But what serve for the thunder7 note













?—Precious villain!

-- 483 --

Gra.
The woman falls; sure, he has kill'd his wife.

Emil.
Ay, ay; O, lay me by my mistress' side!

Gra.
He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

Mon.
'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
Which I have here recover'd 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 Montano and Gratiano.

Oth.
I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword:—
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.

Emil.
What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, can'st thou hear me? I will play the swan,

-- 484 --


And die in musick8 note





;—Willow, willow, willow.—
Moor, she was chaste; she lov'd thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die,—I die. [Dies.

Oth.
I have another weapon in this chamber,
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper9 note










;

-- 485 --


O, 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?

Oth.
Behold! I have a weapon;
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh1 note




: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop2 note



:—But, O vain boast!

-- 486 --


Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.—
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd3 note;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis 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-starr'd wench4 note





!
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 cursed, 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!

-- 487 --

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 feet5 note;—but that's a fable:
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 kill'd.

Oth.
I am not sorry neither; I'd have thee live;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die6 note

.

Lod.
O thou Othello, that was once so good,
Fall'n in the practice7 note 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.

Cas.
Dear general, I never gave you cause8 note



.

-- 488 --

Oth.
I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray you, demand that demi-devil,
Why he hath thus ensnar'd 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 befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know not: Here is a letter,
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
And here, another: the one of them imports
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo.

Oth.
O villain!

Cas.
Most heathenish, and most gross9 note


!

Lod.
Now here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
But that, belike, Iago in the interim1 note
Came in and satisfied him.

Oth.
O the pernicious caitiff!—
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?

Cas.
I found it in my chamber:

-- 489 --


And he himself confess'd, but even now2 note,
That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose,
Which wrought to his desire.

Oth.
O fool! fool! fool!

Cas.
There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,—
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was cast: And even but now he spake,
After long seeming dead,—Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.

Lod.
You must forsake this room, and go with us;
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,—
If there be any cunning cruelty,
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 am3 note; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well:
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Júdean, threw a pearl away,

-- 490 --


Richer than all his tribe5 note































; of one, whose subdu'd eyes,

-- 491 --


Albeit unused to the melting mood6 note

,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees

-- 492 --


Their medicínal gum* note 7 note: Set you down this:
And say, besides,—that in Aleppo once,

-- 493 --


Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk8 note
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,

-- 494 --


I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him—thus. [Stabs himself.

-- 495 --

Lod.
O bloody period!

Gra.
All, that's spoke, is marr'd.

Oth.
I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee;—No way but this, [Falling upon Desdemona.
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss9 note

,
[Dies.

-- 496 --

Cas.
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
For he was great of heart.

Lod.
O Spartan dog1 note



,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragick 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 Moor,
For they succeed to you.—To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain2 note


;

-- 497 --


The time, the place, the torture,—O enforce it!
Myself will straight aboard; and, to the state,
This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt3. note

-- 498 --

-- 499 --

-- 500 --

note






-- 501 --

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Previous section


James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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