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More tedious than the dial eight score times?
O weary reckoning!
Othello's Disordered Mind described.
The lethargy must have his quiet course;
If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Scene between Othello and Desdemona.
DESDEMONA. Alas, the heavy day !—Why do you weep?
Am I the occasion of these tears, my lord?
If, haply, you my father do suspect,
An instrument of this your calling back,
Lay not your blame on me; if you have lost him,
Had it pleas'd Heaven
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes;
Yet I could bear that too; well, very well:
The fountain from the which my current runs,
To knot and gender in !-Turn thy complexion there!
Emilia's Indignation against Slanderers.
I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain,
Some cogging cozening slave, to get some office,
The Moor's abus'd by some most villanous knave,
To lash the rascals naked through the world,
Desdemona's Presentiment of her Death.
My mother had a maid call'd-Barbara ; She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad, And did forsake her: she had a song of—" willow," An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it: That song, to-night, Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara.
Othello's Scene with Desdemona in the Bed-chamber before he kills her.
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. 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, 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
I cannot give it vital growth again,
It needs must wither:-I'll smell it on the tree.—
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword!-One more, one more.—
But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly:
Othello's Perplexity after the Murder.
Yes! 'tis Emilia :-by and by.
'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?
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon: and that the affrighted globe
Othello's Love for Desdemona.
If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,*
I'd not have sold her for it.
Behold! I have a weapon;
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
* A precious stone.
† At our account hereafter.
Othello's Speech before he Kills himself.
Soft you; a word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know it;
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdu'd eyes, .
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this:
Ludovico's Denunciation of Iago.
O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!