Æmil.
My lord, my lord! what hoa! 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.

Æmil. within.]
What hoa! my lord, my lord!

Oth.
Who's there?

Æmil.
Oh, my good lord, I would speak a word with you.

Oth.
Yes 'tis Æmilia—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?
If she come in she'll sure speak to my wife;
My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
Oh insupportable! oh heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon, and that th' afrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration—

Æmil.
I beseech you
That I may speak with you. Oh, good my lord!—

Oth.
I had forgot thee; oh come in, Æmilia.
Soft, by and by, let me the curtains draw.
Where art thou? what's the matter with thee now? Enter Æmilia.

Æmil.
Oh, my good lord, yonder's foul murthers done.

Oth.
What? now?

Æmil.
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 mad.

Æmil.
Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd
A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo.

Oth.
Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd.

Æmil.
No, Cassio is not kill'd?

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

Des.
Oh falsely, falsely murder'd.

Æmil.
Alas! what cry is that?

Oth.
That? what?

Æmil.
Out and alas, that was my lady's voice.
Help! help hoa! help! oh lady speak again,
Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet mistress, speak.

Des.
A guiltless death I die.

Æmil.
Oh who hath done this deed?

Des.
No body, I my self, farewel;
Commend me to my kind lord; oh farewel. [Dies.

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

Æmil.
Alas! who knows?

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

Æmil.
She said so, I must needs report the truth.

Oth.
She's like a liar gone to burning hell,
'Twas I that kill'd her.

Æmil.
Oh the more angel she, and you the blacker devil.

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

Æmil.
Thou dost bely her, and thou art a devil.

Oth.
She was false as water.

Æmil.
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false. Oh she was heav'nly true.

Oth.
Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
Oh, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

Æmil.
My husband!

Oth.
Thy husband.

Æmil.
That she was false to wedlock?

Oth.
Ay, with Cassio: had she been true,
If heav'n would make me such another world,
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I'd not have sold her for it.

Æmil.
My husband?

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

Æmil.
My husband?

Oth.
What needs this ^{b note}iteration woman?
I say thy husband.

‡ ^noteÆmil.
Oh mistress! villany has made mocks with love.
My husband say she was false?

Oth.
He, woman;
I say thy husband; do'st understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Jago.

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

Oth.
Hah?

Æmil.
Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heav'n,
Than thou wast worthy her.

Oth.
Peace, you were best.

Æmil.
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
As I have to be hurt: oh gull! oh dolt!

As ignorant as dirt; thou'st done a deed—
I care not for thy sword, I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives—Help! help hoa! help!
The Moor hath kill'd my mistress. Murther, murther!

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