Oth.
^{3 note}
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. [Lays down the sword.
Yet she must die; else she'll betray more men.
^{4 note}

Should I repent: 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 re-lumine.— [Sets down the taper.
When I have pluck'd thy rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again;
It needs must wither.—I'll smell it on the tree; [Kissing her.
Oh 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, that's the last.
So sweet, was ne'er so fatal! I must weep,
But they are cruel tears. ^{5 note}

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.
Alack, 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, heavens forefend! I would not kill thy soul.

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.
Hum.

Des.
And yet I fear you; for you're fatal then,
When your eyes rowl so. Why I should fear, I know not,
Since guilt I know not; yet, I feel, I fear.

Oth.
Think on thy sins.

Des.
They're 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 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 death-bed.

Des.
Ay, but not yet to die.

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

That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

Des.
Oh, heaven 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's hand.
Oh perjur'd woman! thou dost stone my heart,
And mak'st me call, what I intend to do,
^{6 note}

Des.
He found it then;
I never gave it him. Send for him hither,
Let him confess a truth.

Oth.
He hath confest.

Des.
What, my Lord?

Oth.
That he hath—us'd thee—

Des.
How? unlawfully?

Oth.
Ay.

Des.
He will not say so.

Oth.
No, his mouth is stopp'd.
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

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

Oth.
Had all his hairs been lives, 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.
Oh 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 pause.

Des.
But while I say one prayer.

Oth.
It is too late. [He smothers her.

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