For thou haft kill'd the sweeteft Innocent, That e'er did lift up eye. Oth. Oh, fhe was foul! [Rifing I scarce did know you, Uncle. There lies your Niece, Whose breath, indeed, thefe hands have newly ftopp'd. I know, this act fhews horrible and grim. Gra. Poor Defdemona! I'm glad, thy father's dead: Oth. 'Tis pitiful; but yet lago knows, Emil. Oh heaven! oh heavenly Powers! Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out-I hold my peace? No, I will speak as liberal as the North; Let heaven, and men, and devils, let them all, Iago. Be wife, and get you home. Emil. I will not. [lago offers to ftab his wife. Gra. Fy, your fword upon a woman? Emil. Oh, thou dull Moor! That handkerchief, thou speak'st of, I found by fortune, and did give my husband; A thousand times committed--] This is another paffage which feems to fuppofe a longer space comprifed in the action of this play than the fcenes include. For For often, with a folemn earnestness, More than, indeed, belong'd to fuch a trifle, Iago. Villainous whore ! Emil. She gave it Caffio ?-alas, I found it, And I did giv't my husband. Iago. Filth, thou lieft. Emil. By heav'n, I do not; I do not, gentlemen. Oh murd'rous coxcomb! what fhould fuch a fool Do with fo good a wife? [The Moor runs at Iago, who breaks through and wounds his wife; then runs out. Oth. Are there no ftones in heav'n, But what ferve for the thunder? Precious villain! Gra. The woman falls; fure, he has killed his wife. Emil. Ay, ay; oh, lay me by my mistress' fide. Grd. He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. Mon. 'Tis a notorious villain; take 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 fame villain, For 'tis a damned slave. [Exeunt Mon. and Gra. SCENE IX. Orb. I am not valiant neither; But every puny whipfter gets my fword. Emil. What did thy Song bode, lady? Hark, can't thou bear me? I will play the fwan, And die in mufick. Willow, Willow, WillowMoor, fhe was chafte; fhe lov'd thee, cruel Moor; So come my foul to bliss, as I fpeak true; So fpeaking as I think, alas, I die. [Æmilia dies. Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber, It was a fword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper; Oh, here it is. Uncle I must come forth. Gra. [within.] If thou attempt it, it will coft thee Thou haft no weapon, and perforce muft fuffer. Re-enter Gratiano. Gra. What is the matter? Upon a foldier's thigh. I've feen the day, Than twenty times your ftop. But, oh vain boast! Be not afraid, though you do fee me weapon'd; The very fea-mark of my utmost fail. POPE 4-the icebrook's temper ;] In world are the Catalonian fufees. the first edit on it is, febrake's, temper. Thence corrupted, to Ice-brook's.-Ebro's temper; the waters of that river of Spain, are particularly famous for tempering of teel. The finest arms in the I believe the old reading changed to ice-brook is right, Steel is hardened by being put red hot into very cold water. And And be retires. Where should Othello go? From the poffeffion of this heavenly fight; Enter Lodovico, Caffio led in wounded, Montano, and Lod. Where is this rafh and moft unfortunate man? fable. If that thou be'ft a Devil, I cannot kill thee. (Othello wounds Iago. Lod. Wrench his fword from him. lago. I bleed, Sir, but not kill'd. Oth. I am not forry, neither. I'd have thee live. For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. Lod. Ch thou, Othello, that waft once fo good, Oth. Why, any thing; An honourable murd'rer, if you will, For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. 5-tow'rds b's feet;-] To fee if, according to the common opi- fnare, by the fratagem. nion, his feet be cloven. Hh 2 6-in the practice-] In the Lod. Lod. This wretch hath part confeft h s villainy. Did you and he confent in Caffio's death? Oth. Ay. Caf. Dear General, I never gave you Cause. Oth. I do believe it, and I afk your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demy-devil, Why he hath thus enfnar'd my foul and body? Iago. Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word. Gra. Torments will ope your lips. Oth. Well, thou dost best. Lod. Sir, you fhall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know. Here is a letter, Found in the pocket of the flain Roderigo, And here, another; one of them imports By Rodorigo. Oth. Oh villain! Caf. Mot heathenish and moft gross! Lod. Now, here's another difcontented paper, Oth. O thou pernicious caitiff! How came you, Caffio, by that handkerchief Caf. I found it in my chamber; And he himflf confeft it but ev'n now, Which wrought to his efire. Oth. Oh foul, fool, fool! 7 in the interim] The revifal, that rik was too famifir copies have, in the nick. It liar. was, I fappofe, thought upon Caf. |