| ACT V SCENE II | A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep. | |
| | A light burning. | |
| | Enter OTHELLO. | |
| OTHELLO | 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; | 5 |
| | Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, | |
| | And smooth as monumental alabaster. | |
| | Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. | |
| | Put out the light, and then put out the light: | |
| | If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, | 10 |
| | I can again thy former light restore, | |
| | Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, | |
| | 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 the rose, | 15 |
| | I cannot give it vital growth again. | |
| | It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree. | |
| | Kissing her | |
| | Ah 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, | 20 |
| | 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. | |
| DESDEMONA | Who's there? Othello? | 25 |
| OTHELLO | Ay. Desdemona. | |
| DESDEMONA | Will you come to bed, my lord? | |
| OTHELLO | Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona? | |
| DESDEMONA | Ay, my lord. | |
| OTHELLO | If you bethink yourself of any crime | 30 |
| | Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, | |
| | Solicit for it straight. | |
| DESDEMONA | Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that? | |
| OTHELLO | Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: | |
| | I would not kill thy unprepared spirit; | 35 |
| | No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. | |
| DESDEMONA | Talk you of killing? | |
| OTHELLO | Ay, I do. | |
| DESDEMONA | Then heaven | |
| | Have mercy on me! | 40 |
| OTHELLO | Amen, with all my heart! | |
| DESDEMONA | If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. | |
| OTHELLO | Hum! | |
| DESDEMONA | And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then | |
| | When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not, | 45 |
| | Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear. | |
| OTHELLO | Think on thy sins. | |
| DESDEMONA | They are loves I bear to you. | |
| OTHELLO | Ay, and for that thou diest. | |
| DESDEMONA | That death's unnatural that kills for loving. | 50 |
| | 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. | |
| OTHELLO | Peace, and be still! | 55 |
| DESDEMONA | I will so. What's the matter? | |
| OTHELLO | That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee | |
| | Thou gavest to Cassio. | |
| DESDEMONA | No, by my life and soul! | |
| | Send for the man, and ask him. | 60 |
| OTHELLO | Sweet soul, take heed, | |
| | Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed. | |
| DESDEMONA | Ay, but not yet to die. | |
| OTHELLO | Yes, presently: | |
| | Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin; | 65 |
| | For to deny each article with oath | |
| | Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception | |
| | That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. | |
| DESDEMONA | Then Lord have mercy on me! | |
| OTHELLO | I say, amen. | 70 |
| DESDEMONA | 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. | |
| OTHELLO | By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand. | 75 |
| | 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. | |
| DESDEMONA | He found it then; | 80 |
| | I never gave it him: send for him hither; | |
| | Let him confess a truth. | |
| OTHELLO | He hath confess'd. | |
| DESDEMONA | What, my lord? | |
| OTHELLO | That he hath used thee. | 85 |
| DESDEMONA | How? unlawfully? | |
| OTHELLO | Ay. | |
| DESDEMONA | He will not say so. | |
| OTHELLO | No, his mouth is stopp'd; | |
| | Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't. | 90 |
| DESDEMONA | O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead? | |
| OTHELLO | Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge | |
| | Had stomach for them all. | |
| DESDEMONA | Alas! he is betray'd and I undone. | |
| OTHELLO | Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face? | 95 |
| DESDEMONA | O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not! | |
| OTHELLO | Down, strumpet! | |
| DESDEMONA | Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night! | |
| OTHELLO | Nay, if you strive-- | |
| DESDEMONA | But half an hour! | 100 |
| OTHELLO | Being done, there is no pause. | |
| DESDEMONA | But while I say one prayer! | |
| OTHELLO | It is too late. | |
| | He stifles her. | |
| EMILIA | Within | |
| OTHELLO | What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? | |
| | I that am cruel am yet merciful; | 105 |
| | I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so. | |
| EMILIA | Within | |
| OTHELLO | Who's there? | |
| EMILIA | Within | |
| OTHELLO | 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? | 110 |
| | 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! | 115 |
| | Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse | |
| | Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe | |
| | Should yawn at alteration. | |
| EMILIA | Within | |
| | That I may speak with you, O, good my lord! | |
| OTHELLO | I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia; | 120 |
| | Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw. | |
| | Where art thou? | |
| | Unlocks the door. | |
| | Enter EMILIA. | |
| | What's the matter with thee now? | |
| EMILIA | O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done! | |
| OTHELLO | What, now? | 125 |
| EMILIA | But now, my lord. | |
| OTHELLO | It is the very error of the moon; | |
| | She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, | |
| | And makes men mad. | |
| EMILIA | Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian | 130 |
| | Call'd Roderigo. | |
| OTHELLO | Roderigo kill'd! | |
| | And Cassio kill'd! | |
| EMILIA | No, Cassio is not kill'd. | |
| OTHELLO | Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune, | 135 |
| | And sweet revenge grows harsh. | |
| DESDEMONA | O, falsely, falsely murder'd! | |
| EMILIA | Alas, what cry is that? | |
| OTHELLO | That! what? | |
| EMILIA | Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice. | 140 |
| | Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again! | |
| | Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak! | |
| DESDEMONA | A guiltless death I die. | |
| EMILIA | O, who hath done this deed? | |
| DESDEMONA | Nobody; I myself. Farewell | 145 |
| | Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell! | |
| | Dies | |
| OTHELLO | Why, how should she be murder'd? | |
| EMILIA | Alas, who knows? | |
| OTHELLO | You heard her say herself, it was not I. | |
| EMILIA | She said so: I must needs report the truth. | 150 |
| OTHELLO | She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell: | |
| | 'Twas I that kill'd her. | |
| EMILIA | O, the more angel she, | |
| |
And you the blacker devil! | |
| OTHELLO | She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. | 155 |
| EMILIA | Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. | |
| OTHELLO | She was false as water. | |
| EMILIA | Thou art rash as fire, to say | |
| | That she was false: O, she was heavenly true! | |
| OTHELLO | Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. | 160 |
| | 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. | |
| EMILIA | My husband! | |
| OTHELLO | Thy husband. | 165 |
| EMILIA | That she was false to wedlock? | |
| OTHELLO | 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. | 170 |
| EMILIA | My husband! | |
| OTHELLO | Ay, 'twas he that told me first: | |
| | An honest man he is, and hates the slime | |
| | That sticks on filthy deeds. | |
| EMILIA | My husband! | 175 |
| OTHELLO | What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband. | |
| EMILIA | O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love, | |
| | My husband say that she was false! | |
| OTHELLO | He, woman; | |
| | I say thy husband: dost understand the word? | 180 |
| | My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. | |
| EMILIA | 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. | |
| OTHELLO | Ha! | 185 |
| EMILIA | Do thy worst: | |
| | This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven | |
| | Than thou wast worthy her. | |
| OTHELLO | Peace, you were best. | |
| EMILIA | Thou hast not half that power to do me harm | 190 |
| | As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! | |
| | As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed-- | |
| | I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, | |
| | Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help! | |
| | The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder! | 195 |
| | Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others. | |
| MONTANO | What is the matter? How now, general! | |
| EMILIA | O, are you come, Iago? you have done well, | |
| | That men must lay their murders on your neck. | |
| GRATIANO | What is the matter? | |
| EMILIA | Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man: | 200 |
| | He says thou told'st him that his wife was false: | |
| | I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain: | |
| | Speak, for my heart is full. | |
| IAGO | I told him what I thought, and told no more | |
| | Than what he found himself was apt and true. | 205 |
| EMILIA | But did you ever tell him she was false? | |
| IAGO | I did. | |
| EMILIA | You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; | |
| | Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. | |
| | She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio? | 210 |
| IAGO | With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue. | |
| EMILIA | I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak: | |
| | My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,-- | |
| All | O heavens forfend! | |
| EMILIA | And your reports have set the murder on. | 215 |
| OTHELLO | Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed. | |
| GRATIANO | 'Tis a strange truth. | |
| MONTANO | O monstrous act! | |
| EMILIA | Villany, villany, villany! | |
| | I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany! -- | 220 |
| | I thought so then: -- I'll kill myself for grief: -- | |
| | O villany, villany! | |
| IAGO | What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. | |
| EMILIA | Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak: | |
| | 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. | 225 |
| | Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. | |
| OTHELLO | O! O! O! | |
| | He falls on the bed. | |
| EMILIA | Nay, lay thee down and roar; | |
| | For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent | |
| | That e'er did lift up eye. | 230 |
| OTHELLO | Rising | |
| | I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece, | |
| | Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: | |
| | I know this act shows horrible and grim. | |
| GRATIANO | Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead: | |
| | Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief | 235 |
| | Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, | |
| | This sight would make him do a desperate turn, | |
| | Yea, curse his better angel from his side, | |
| | And fall to reprobation. | |
| OTHELLO | 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows | 240 |
| | That she with Cassio hath the act of shame | |
| | A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it: | |
| | And she did gratify his amorous works | |
| | With that recognizance and pledge of love | |
| | Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand: | 245 |
| | It was a handkerchief, an antique token | |
| | My father gave my mother. | |
| EMILIA | O heaven! O heavenly powers! | |
| IAGO | Come, hold your peace. | |
| EMILIA | 'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace! | 250 |
| | No, I will speak as liberal as the north: | |
| | Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, | |
| | All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. | |
| IAGO | Be wise, and get you home. | |
| EMILIA | I will not. | 255 |
| | IAGO offers to stab EMILIA | |
| GRATIANO | Fie! | |
| | Your sword upon a woman? | |
| EMILIA | O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of | |
| | I found by fortune and did give my husband; | |
| | For often, with a solemn earnestness, | 260 |
| | More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, | |
| | He begg'd of me to steal it. | |
| IAGO | Villanous whore! | |
| EMILIA | She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it, | |
| | And I did give't my husband. | 265 |
| IAGO | Filth, thou liest! | |
| EMILIA | By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. | |
| | O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool | |
| | Do with so good a woman? | |
| OTHELLO | Are there no stones in heaven | 270 |
| | But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain! | |
| | He runs at IAGO. IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exits. | |
| GRATIANO | The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife. | |
| EMILIA | Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side. | |
| GRATIANO | He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. | |
| MONTANO | 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, | 275 |
| | 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 same villain, | |
| | For 'tis a damned slave. | |
| | Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO. | |
| OTHELLO | I am not valiant neither, | 280 |
| | But ever puny whipster gets my sword: | |
| | But why should honour outlive honesty? | |
| | Let it go all. | |
| EMILIA | What did thy song bode, lady? | |
| | Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan. | 285 |
| | And die in music. | |
| | Singing | |
| | Willow, willow, willow, -- | |
| | Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor; | |
| | So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; | |
| | So speaking as I think, I die, I die. | 290 |
| | Dies | |
| OTHELLO | I have another weapon in this chamber; | |
| | It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:-- | |
| | O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. | |
| GRATIANO | Within | |
| | Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. | |
| OTHELLO | Look in upon me then and speak with me, | 295 |
| | Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. | |
| | Re-enter GRATIANO. | |
| GRATIANO | What is the matter? | |
| OTHELLO | Behold, I have a weapon; | |
| | A better never did itself sustain | |
| | Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, | 300 |
| | That, with this little arm and this good sword, | |
| | I have made my way through more impediments | |
| | Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast! | |
| | Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now. | |
| | Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; | 305 |
| | Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, | |
| | And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. | |
| | Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear; | |
| | Man but a rush against Othello's breast, | |
| | And he retires. Where should Othello go? | 310 |
| | Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! | |
| | Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, | |
| | This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, | |
| | And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! | |
| | Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave! | 315 |
| | Whip me, ye devils, | |
| | From the possession of this heavenly sight! | |
| | Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! | |
| | Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! | |
| | O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! | 320 |
| | Oh! Oh! Oh! | |
| | Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair, and Officers with IAGO, prisoner. | |
| LODOVICO | Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? | |
| OTHELLO | That's he that was Othello: here I am. | |
| LODOVICO | Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. | |
| OTHELLO | I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable. | 325 |
| | If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee. | |
| | Wounds IAGO. | |
| LODOVICO | Wrench his sword from him. | |
| IAGO | I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. | |
| OTHELLO | I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live; | |
| | For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. | 330 |
| LODOVICO | O thou Othello, thou wert once so good, | |
| | Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave, | |
| | What shall be said to thee? | |
| OTHELLO | Why, any thing: | |
| | An honourable murderer, if you will; | 335 |
| | For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. | |
| LODOVICO | This wretch hath part confess'd his villany: | |
| | Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? | |
| OTHELLO | Ay. | |
| CASSIO | Dear general, I never gave you cause. | 340 |
| OTHELLO | I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. | |
| | Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil | |
| | Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? | |
| IAGO | Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: | |
| | From this time forth I never will speak word. | 345 |
| LODOVICO | What, not to pray? | |
| GRATIANO | Torments will ope your lips. | |
| OTHELLO | Well, thou dost best. | |
| LODOVICO | Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, | |
| | Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter | 350 |
| | Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; | |
| | And here another: the one of them imports | |
| | The death of Cassio to be undertook | |
| | By Roderigo. | |
| OTHELLO | O villain! | 355 |
| CASSIO | Most heathenish and most gross! | |
| LODOVICO | Now here's another discontented paper, | |
| | Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, | |
| | Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; | |
| | But that belike Iago in the interim | 360 |
| | Came in and satisfied him. | |
| OTHELLO | O the pernicious caitiff! | |
| | How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief | |
| | That was my wife's? | |
| CASSIO | I found it in my chamber: | 365 |
| | And he himself confess'd but even now | |
| | That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose | |
| | Which wrought to his desire. | |
| OTHELLO | O fool! fool! fool! | |
| CASSIO | There is besides in Roderigo's letter, | 370 |
| | How he upbraids Iago, that he made him | |
| | Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came | |
| | That I was cast: and even but now he spake, | |
| | After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, | |
| | Iago set him on. | 375 |
| LODOVICO | You must forsake this room, and go with us: | |
| | Your power and your command is taken off, | |
| | And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, | |
| | If there be any cunning cruelty | |
| | That can torment him much and hold him long, | 380 |
| | It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, | |
| | Till that the nature of your fault be known | |
| | To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away. | |
| OTHELLO | Soft you; a word or two before you go. | |
| | I have done the state some service, and they know't. | 385 |
| | No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, | |
| | When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, | |
| | Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, | |
| | Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak | |
| | Of one that loved not wisely but too well; | 390 |
| | Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought | |
| | Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, | |
| | Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away | |
| | Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, | |
| | Albeit unused to the melting mood, | 395 |
| | Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees | |
| | Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; | |
| | And say besides, that in Aleppo once, | |
| | Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk | |
| | Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, | 400 |
| | I took by the throat the circumcised dog, | |
| | And smote him, thus. | |
| | Stabs himself. | |
| LODOVICO | O bloody period! | |
| GRATIANO | All that's spoke is marr'd. | |
| OTHELLO | I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this; | |
| | Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. | |
| | Falls on the bed, and dies. | |
| CASSIO | This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon; | 405 |
| | For he was great of heart. | |
| LODOVICO | To IAGO. | |
| | More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! | |
| | Look on the tragic loading of this bed; | |
| | This is thy work: the object poisons sight; | |
| | Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, | 410 |
| | And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, | |
| | For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor, | |
| | Remains the censure of this hellish villain; | |
| | The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it! | |
| | Myself will straight aboard: and to the state | 415 |
| | This heavy act with heavy heart relate. | |
| | Exeunt | |