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 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.

[Takes off his sword.

Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out thy light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me:-but once put out thine,
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,

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 heavenly;
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? 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 soul. Des. Talk you of killing?

Oth.

Des.

Have mercy on me!

Oth.

Ay, I do.

Then, heaven

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 diest.

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

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,

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 sacrifice:

I saw the handkerchief.

Des.

He found it then;

I never gave it him:-Send for him hither,
And let him confess a truth.

Des. Oth.

He'll not say so.

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 re

venge

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,

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.

Who's there?

Emil. [Within.] What ho! my lord, my lord!
Oth.
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?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:-
My wife! my wife! what wife?—I have no wife:
O, insupportable! O heavy hour!

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

now?

matter with thee

[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 mad.

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

Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then murder's out of tune,