Shakespeare's First Folio Part 640

Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord?

Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon?

Des. I my Lord

Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace, Solicite for it straight

Des. Alacke, my Lord, What may you meane by that?

Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by: I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit, No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule

Des. Talke you of killing?

Oth. I, I do

Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee

Oth. Amen, with all my heart

Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me

Oth. Humh

Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then When your eyes rowle so.

Why I should feare, I know not, Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare

Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes

Des. They are Loues I beare to you

Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st

Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing.

Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip?

Some b.l.o.o.d.y pa.s.sion 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 Handkerchiefe Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Ca.s.sio

Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man, And aske him

Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury, Thou art on thy death-bed

Des. I, but not yet to dye

Oth. Presently.

Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne: For to deny each Article with Oath, Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye

Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me

Oth. I say, Amen

Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Ca.s.sio, But with such generall warrantie of Heauen, As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token

Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand.

O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart, And makes me call, what I intend to do, A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice.

I saw the Handkerchiefe

Des. He found it then: I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither: Let him confesse a truth

Oth. He hath confest

Des. What, my Lord?

Oth. That he hath vs'd thee

Des. How? vnlawfully?

Oth. I

Des. He will not say so

Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd: Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't

Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead?

Oth. Had all his haires bin liues, my great Reuenge Had stomacke for them all

Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone

Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face?

Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not

Oth. Downe Strumpet

Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night

Oth. Nay, if you striue

Des. But halfe an houre

Oth. Being done, there is no pawse

Des. But while I say one prayer

Oth. It is too late.

Smothers her.

aemilia at the doore.

Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa?

My Lord, my Lord