No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.
Then heaven
Have mercy on me!
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.
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.
That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
Thou gavest to Cassio.
No, by my life and soul!
Send for the man, and ask him.
Sweet soul, take heed,
Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.
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.
And have you mercy too! I never did
Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
But with such general warranty of heaven
As I might love: I never gave him token.
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in’s hand.
O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
And makest me call what I intend to do
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
I saw the handkerchief.
He found it then;
I never gave it him: send for him hither;
Let him confess a truth.
No, his mouth is stopp’d;
Honest Iago hath ta’en order for’t.
Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.
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.
Yes: ’tis Emilia. By and by. She’s dead.
’Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death.—
The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were’t good?—
I think she stirs again:—no. What’s best to do?
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.
Within. I do beseech you
That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!
I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
Where art thou? Unlocks the door.
It is the very error of the moon;
She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
And makes men mad.
Cassio, my lord, hath kill’d a young Venetian
Call’d Roderigo.
Roderigo kill’d!
And Cassio kill’d!
Not Cassio kill’d! then murder’s out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
Out, and alas! that was my lady’s voice.
Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!
Nobody; I myself. Farewell
Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell! Dies.
She’s, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
’Twas I that kill’d her.
O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil!
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!
Cassio did top 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 extremity. Thy husband knew it all.
Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,
I’ld not have sold her for it.
Ay, ’twas he that told me first:
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.
O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,
My husband say that she was false!
He, woman;
I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.
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.
Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
Than thou wast worthy her.
Thou hast
