Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF KING LEAR.
Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona returne againe to Venice Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein none can be so determinate, as the remouing of Cassio Rod. How do you meane remouing him? Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place: knocking out his braines Rod. And that you would haue me to do Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one) you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast. About it Rod. I will heare further reason for this Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd. Exeunt. Scena Tertia. Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.
Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres! Iago. Come, hold your peace Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? No, I will speake as liberall as the North; Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all, All, all, crie shame against me, yet Ile speake Iago. Be wise, and get you home Emil. I will not Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman Emil. Oh thou dull Moore, That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband: For often, with a solemne earnestnesse, (More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle) He begg'd of me, to steale't Iago. Villanous Whore Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it, And I did giu't my Husband Iago. Filth, thou lyest Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen: Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what should such a Foole Do with so good a wife? Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen, But what serues for the Thunder? Precious Villaine Gra. The woman falles: Sure he hath kill'd his Wife Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore: Come guard the doore without, let him not passe, But kill him rather. Ile after that same villaine, For 'tis a damned Slaue. Enter.
Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you goe: I haue done the State some seruice, and they know't: No more of that. I pray you in your Letters, When you shall these vnluckie deeds relate, Speake of me, as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set downe ought in malice. Then must you speake, Of one that lou'd not wisely, but too well: Of one, not easily Iealious, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreame: Of one, whose hand (Like the base Iudean) threw a Pearle away Richer then all his Tribe: Of one, whose subdu'd Eyes, Albeit vn-vsed to the melting moode, Drops teares as fast as the Arabian Trees Their Medicinable gumme. Set you downe this: And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke Beate a Venetian, and traduc'd the State, I tooke by th' throat the circumcised Dogge, And smoate him, thus Lod. Oh bloody period Gra. All that is spoke, is marr'd Oth. I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee: No way but this, Killing my selfe, to dye vpon a kisse. Dyes Cas. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon: For he was great of heart Lod. Oh Sparton Dogge: More fell then Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea: Looke on the Tragicke Loading of this bed: This is thy worke: The Obiect poysons Sight, Let it be hid. Gratiano, keepe the house, And seize vpon the Fortunes of the Moore, For they succeede on you. To you, Lord Gouernor, Remaines the Censure of this hellish villaine: The Time, the Place, the Torture, oh inforce it: My selfe will straight aboord, and to the State, This heauie Act, with heauie heart relate. Exeunt.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.