Othello, Act 5, Scene 2

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 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 thy rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither. I’ll smell it on the tree.

It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! It is the cause. Still, I will not shed her blood, or scar that skin of hers, whiter than snow and smooth as the alabaster of a tomb. Yet she must die, or she will betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light. If I put you out, you flaming servant, I can restore your former light again, if I should change my mind. But once your light is put out, you most skilful model of nature at her finest, I do not know where there is that Promethean fire that can light you again. When I have picked your rose, I cannot make it grow and live again; it has to wither. I will smell it while it is still on the branch.

O, 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, 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.

Oh, sweet breath, that almost persuades Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. Be like this when you are dead, and I will kill you and love you afterwards. One more, and this the last. Nothing so sweet was ever so deadly. I have to weep, but these are cruel tears. This sorrow is heavenly: it strikes where it loves. She is waking.

Who’s there? Othello?

Who's there? Othello?

Ay, Desdemona.

Yes, Desdemona.

Will you come to bed, my lord?

Will you come to bed, my lord?

Have you pray’d tonight, Desdemona?

Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?

Ay, my lord.

Yes, my lord.

If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.

If you can think of any sin that has not yet been made right with heaven and grace, pray about it at once.

Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?

Oh no, my lord, what do you mean by that?

Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by. I would not kill thy unprepared spirit, No, heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.

Well, do it, and be quick; I will walk over here. I would not kill your spirit while it is unprepared. No, heaven forbid! I would not kill your soul.

Talk you of killing?

Are you talking about killing?

Ay, I do.

Yes, I am.

Then heaven have mercy on me!

Then may heaven have mercy on me!

Amen, with all my heart!

Amen, with all my heart!

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

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

Hum!

Hmm!

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.

And yet I am afraid of you, because you are deadly when your eyes roll like that. Why I should be afraid I do not know, since I know of no guilt in myself, but still I feel afraid.

Think on thy sins.

Think about your sins.

They are loves I bear to you.

They are the love I have for you.

Ay, and for that thou diest.

Yes, and that is why you die.

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 death is unnatural that kills for loving. Oh, why do you bite your lower lip like that? Some bloody passion is shaking your whole body. These are omens; but still I hope, I hope, they are not aimed at me.

Peace, and be still!

Be quiet, and be still!

I will so. What’s the matter?

I will. What is the matter?

That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee, Thou gav’st to Cassio.

That handkerchief that I loved so much and gave to you, you gave to Cassio.

No, by my life and soul! Send for the man and ask him.

No, by my life and soul! Send for the man and ask him.

Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury, Thou’rt on thy death-bed.

Sweet soul, be careful, be careful of lying under oath; you are on your deathbed.

Ay, but not yet to die.

Yes, but not to die yet.

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.

Yes, immediately. So confess your sin freely. Because denying every point on oath cannot take away or choke the firm conviction that makes me groan. You are going to die.

Then, Lord have mercy on me!

Then, Lord have mercy on me!

I say, amen.

I say amen.

And have you mercy too! I never did Offend you in my life, never lov’d Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love. I never gave him token.

And may you have mercy too! I never wronged you in my life, never loved Cassio except with the kind of general goodwill heaven allows, such as I was permitted to feel. I never gave him any love token.

By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in ’s hand. O perjur’d woman, thou dost stone my heart, And mak’st me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice. I saw the handkerchief.

By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand. Oh, you lying woman, you turn my heart to stone, and make me call what I mean to do a murder, when I thought of it as a sacrifice. I saw the handkerchief.

He found it then. I never gave it him. Send for him hither. Let him confess a truth.

Then he found it. I never gave it to him. Send for him to come here. Let him admit the truth.

He hath confess’d.

He has confessed.

What, my lord?

What, my lord?

That he hath us’d thee.

That he has had you.

How? Unlawfully?

How? Unlawfully?

Ay.

Yes.

He will not say so.

He will not say that.

No, his mouth is stopp’d. Honest Iago hath ta’en order for ’t.

No, his mouth has been shut. Honest Iago has seen to it.

O, my fear interprets! What, is he dead?

Oh, my fear tells me what you mean! What, is he dead?

Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge Had stomach for them all.

If every hair of his had been a life, my great revenge had an appetite for all of them.

Alas, he is betray’d, and I undone!

Oh no, he has been betrayed, and I am ruined!

Out, strumpet! Weep’st thou for him to my face?

Get away, whore! Do you weep for him in front of my face?

O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!

Oh, send me away, my lord, but do not kill me!

Down, strumpet!

Get down, whore!

Kill me tomorrow, let me live tonight!

Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight!

Nay, if you strive,—

No — if you struggle—

But half an hour!

Just half an hour!

Being done, there is no pause.

Once it is begun, there is no stopping.

But while I say one prayer!

Just long enough for me to say one prayer!

It is too late.

It is too late.

[Within.] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!

[Offstage.] My lord, my lord! Hello there! My lord, my lord!

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.

What noise is this? Not dead? Not quite dead yet? I who am cruel am still merciful: I would not have you linger in your pain. There, there.

[Within.] What, ho! my lord, my lord!

[Offstage.] Hello there! My lord, my lord!

Who’s there?

Who's there?

[Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!

[Offstage.] Oh, my good lord, I would like a word with you!

Yes. ’Tis Emilia, by and by. She’s dead. ’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? 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.

Yes. It is Emilia. In a moment. She is dead. She has probably come to tell me about Cassio's death. The noise was loud. Ah! No more movement? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Would that be a good idea? I think she is stirring again — no. What is the best thing to do? If she comes in, she will certainly speak to my wife. My wife! My wife! What wife? I have no wife. Oh, unbearable! Oh, dreadful hour! It seems to me there ought to be a huge eclipse of the sun and moon now, and the terrified earth ought to split open at the change.

[Within.] I do beseech you That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!

[Offstage.] I beg you to let me speak with you, oh, my good lord!

I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia. Soft, by and by; let me the curtains draw. Where art thou?

I had forgotten you. Oh, come in, Emilia. Wait, in a moment; let me close the bed curtains. Where are you?

What’s the matter with thee now?

What's wrong with you now?

O, my good lord, yonder’s foul murders done!

Oh, my good lord, there have been foul murders over there!

What, now?

What, just now?

But now, my lord.

Just now, my lord.

It is the very error of the moon, She comes more nearer earth than she was wont And makes men mad.

It's the moon straying from her course: she comes closer to the earth than she usually does, and drives men mad.

Cassio, my lord, hath kill’d a young Venetian Call’d Roderigo.

Cassio, my lord, has killed a young Venetian called Roderigo.

Roderigo kill’d? And Cassio kill’d?

Roderigo killed? And Cassio killed?

No, Cassio is not kill’d.

No, Cassio isn't killed.

Not Cassio kill’d! Then murder’s out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh.

Cassio not killed! Then murder is out of tune, and sweet revenge turns harsh.

O, falsely, falsely murder’d!

Oh, I am wrongly, wrongly murdered!

Alas, what cry is that?

Oh no, what cry is that?

That? What?

That? What?

Out, and alas! That was my lady’s voice. Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again, Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

Oh no, alas! That was my lady's voice. Help! Help, hello! Help! Oh, lady, speak again, sweet Desdemona! Oh, sweet mistress, speak!

A guiltless death I die.

I die a guiltless death.

O, who hath done this deed?

Oh, who has done this deed?

Nobody; I myself. Farewell. Commend me to my kind lord. O, farewell!

Nobody; I did it myself. Goodbye. Give my love to my kind lord. Oh, goodbye!

Why, how should she be murder’d?

Why, how could she have been murdered?

Alas, who knows?

Alas, who knows?

You heard her say herself, it was not I.

You heard her say it yourself: it wasn't me.

She said so. I must needs report the truth.

She did say so. I have to report the truth.

She’s like a liar, gone to burning hell. ’Twas I that kill’d her.

She has gone to burning hell like a liar. It was I who killed her.

O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil!

Oh, then she is all the more an angel, and you the blacker devil!

She turn’d to folly, and she was a whore.

She fell into wickedness, and she was a whore.

Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

You are slandering her, and you are a devil.

She was false as water.

She was as false as water.

Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

You are as rash as fire to say she was false. Oh, 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.

Cassio mounted her; ask your husband if you doubt it. Oh, I would be damned below the deepest pit of hell if I hadn't gone to this extreme on just grounds. Your husband knew it all.

My husband?

My husband?

Thy husband.

Your husband.

That she was false to wedlock?

That she was unfaithful to her marriage?

Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I’d not have sold her for it.

Yes, with Cassio. No, if she had been true, even if heaven would make me another world like this one out of a single whole and perfect chrysolite, I wouldn't have sold her for it.

My husband?

My husband?

Ay, ’twas he that told me first. An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds.

Yes, he was the one who told me first. He's an honest man, and he hates the slime that clings to filthy deeds.

My husband?

My husband?

What needs this iterance, woman? I say thy husband.

Why do you keep repeating it, woman? I say your husband.

O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love! My husband say that she was false?

Oh, mistress, villainy has made a mockery of love! My husband said she was unfaithful?

He, woman; I say thy husband: dost understand the word? My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

He did, woman. I say your husband: do you understand the word? My friend, your 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.

If he says so, may his poisonous soul rot half a grain a day! He lies utterly. She was far too fond of her most filthy bargain.

Ha!

Ha!

Do thy worst: This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven Than thou wast worthy her.

Do your worst. This deed of yours deserves heaven no more than you deserved her.

Peace, you were best.

You had better be quiet.

Thou hast not half that power to do me harm 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!

You don't have half the power to hurt me that I have to endure being hurt. Oh, you fool! You idiot! As ignorant as dirt! You have done a deed — I don't care about your sword — I'll make it known, even if I lost twenty lives. Help! Help, hello! Help! The Moor has killed my mistress! Murder, murder!

What is the matter? How now, general?

What's the matter? What's going on, general?

O, are you come, Iago? You have done well, That men must lay their murders on your neck.

Oh, have you come, Iago? You have done well, seeing that men have to load their murders onto your neck.

What is the matter?

What's the matter?

Disprove this villain, if thou be’st a man. 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.

Prove this villain wrong, if you are a man. He says you told him his wife was unfaithful. I know you didn't; you're not such a villain. Speak, for my heart is full.

I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true.

I told him what I thought, and told him no more than what he found for himself to be likely and true.

But did you ever tell him she was false?

But did you ever tell him she was unfaithful?

I did.

I did.

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?

You told a lie, a hateful, damned lie; on my soul, a lie; a wicked lie. She unfaithful with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio?

With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.

With Cassio, mistress. Come on, hold your tongue.

I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak. My mistress here lies murder’d in her bed.

I will not hold my tongue; I'm bound to speak. My mistress lies here murdered in her bed.

O heavens forfend!

Oh, heaven forbid!

And your reports have set the murder on.

And your reports set the murder going.

Nay, stare not, masters, it is true indeed.

No, don't stare, gentlemen, it really is true.

’Tis a strange truth.

It's a strange truth.

O monstrous act!

Oh, monstrous act!

Villany, villany, villany! I think upon’t, I think I smell’t; O villany! I thought so then. I’ll kill myself for grief. O villany, villany!

Villainy, villainy, villainy! I think about it, I think I can smell it; oh, villainy! I suspected as much back then. I'll kill myself for grief. Oh, villainy, villainy!

What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

What, are you mad? I order you, go home.

Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak. ’Tis proper I obey him, but not now. Perchance, Iago, I will ne’er go home.

Good gentlemen, let me be allowed to speak. It's right that I obey him, but not now. It may be, Iago, that I will never go home.

O! O! O!

Oh! Oh! Oh!

Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent That e’er did lift up eye.

Go on, lie down and howl; because you have killed the sweetest innocent who ever opened her eyes.

[Rising.] O, she was foul! 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.

[Getting up.] Oh, she was foul! I hardly recognised you, uncle: there lies your niece, whose breath these hands have just now stopped. I know this act looks horrible and grim.

Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father’s dead. Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief 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 reprobance.

Poor Desdemona! I am glad your father is dead. Your marriage was fatal to him, and sheer grief cut his old thread in two. If he were alive now, this sight would drive him to something desperate — yes, to curse his good angel away from his side and sink into damnation.

’Tis pitiful. But yet Iago knows 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. It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother.

It is pitiful. But still, Iago knows that she committed the shameful act with Cassio a thousand times; Cassio confessed it, and she rewarded his lovemaking with that token and pledge of love which I first gave her. I saw it in his hand. It was a handkerchief, an old keepsake my father gave my mother.

O heaven! O heavenly powers!

Oh heaven! Oh heavenly powers!

Come, hold your peace.

Come on, be quiet.

’Twill out, ’twill out. I peace? 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.

It will come out, it will come out. Me be quiet? No, I will speak as freely as the north wind. Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, all of them, cry shame on me — I will still speak.

Be wise, and get you home.

Be sensible, and go home.

I will not.

I will not.

Fie! Your sword upon a woman?

Shame on you! Your sword against a woman?

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, More than indeed belong’d to such a trifle, He begg’d of me to steal it.

You stupid Moor, that handkerchief you speak of I found by chance and gave to my husband; because often, with a serious earnestness far beyond what such a trifle deserved, he begged me to steal it.

Villanous whore!

Villainous whore!

She give it Cassio! no, alas, I found it, And I did give’t my husband.

She gave it to Cassio? No, sadly, I found it, and I gave it to my husband.

Filth, thou liest!

Filth, you are lying!

By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. O murderous coxcomb! What should such a fool Do with so good a wife?

By heaven, I am not, I am not, gentlemen. Oh, murderous fool! What business did such an idiot have with so good a wife?

OTHELLO Are there not stones in heaven But what serve for thunder? Precious villain!

OTHELLO Are there no stones in heaven except the ones used for thunder? You precious villain!

The woman falls. Sure, he hath kill’d his wife.

The woman is falling. He has certainly killed his wife.

Ay, ay. O, lay me by my mistress’ side.

Yes, yes. Oh, lay me beside my mistress.

He’s gone, but his wife’s kill’d.

He has run off, but his wife has been killed.

’Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, 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.

He is a well-known villain. Take this weapon, which I have just taken from the Moor. Come, guard the door outside; do not let him get past, but kill him instead. I will go after that same villain, because he is a damned wretch.

I am not valiant neither, But every puny whipster gets my sword. But why should honour outlive honesty? Let it go all.

I am not brave either, since every feeble little whipper-snapper can take my sword away. But why should honour outlive honesty? Let it all go.

What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, And die in music. [Sings.] Willow, willow, willow. Moor, she was chaste. She lov’d thee, cruel Moor, So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; So speaking as I think, I die, I die.

What did your song foretell, my lady? Listen — can you hear me? I will act the swan and die singing. [She sings.] Willow, willow, willow. Moor, she was chaste. She loved you, cruel Moor. As surely as I speak the truth, may my soul come to bliss. Speaking as I truly think, I die, I die.

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.

I have another weapon in this room. It is a Spanish sword, tempered in icy water. Oh, here it is. Uncle, I must come out.

[Within.] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

[From outside.] If you try it, it will cost you dearly. You have no weapon, and you will have to submit.

Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

Then look in on me and speak with me, or, unarmed as I am, I will attack you.

What is the matter?

What is the matter?

Behold, I have a weapon. A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier’s thigh: I have seen the day 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. 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? 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, cursed slave! 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 Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! dead! Oh, oh!

Look, I do have a weapon. A better one never hung at a soldier's thigh. There was a time when with this little arm and this good sword I cut my way through more obstacles than twenty times your attempt to stop me. But what an empty boast! Who can control his fate? It is not like that now. Do not be afraid, even though you see me armed. Here is the end of my journey, here is my goal, the very landmark of my final voyage. Are you backing away in alarm? That fear is wasted. Just point a reed at Othello's chest, and he gives way. Where should Othello go? Now, how do you look now? Oh, girl born under an evil star, pale as your nightgown! When we meet at the day of reckoning, this look of yours will hurl my soul out of heaven, and fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! As cold as your chastity. Oh, cursed, cursed wretch that I am! Whip me, you devils, away from the sight of this heavenly creature! Blow me about in the winds, roast me in sulphur, wash me in plunging chasms of liquid fire! Oh Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! Dead! Oh, oh!

Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

That’s he that was Othello. Here I am.

That is the man who used to be Othello. Here I am.

Where is that viper? Bring the villain forth.

Where is that snake? Bring the villain out.

I look down towards his feet; but that’s a fable. If that thou be’st a devil, I cannot kill thee.

I look down at his feet — but that is only a story. If you are a devil, I cannot kill you.

Wrench his sword from him.

Wrench the sword out of his hand.

I bleed, sir, but not kill’d.

I am bleeding, sir, but not killed.

I am not sorry neither. I’d have thee live, For in my sense ’tis happiness to die.

I am not sorry about that either. I would rather you lived, because as I feel now, dying is happiness.

O thou Othello, that wert once so good, Fall’n in the practice of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee?

Oh Othello, you who were once so good, brought down by the scheming of a damned wretch — what is there to say to you?

Why, anything; An honourable murderer, if you will. For naught did I in hate, but all in honour.

Why, anything; call me an honourable murderer, if you like. For I did nothing out of hatred, but everything for honour.

This wretch hath part confess’d his villany. Did you and he consent in Cassio’s death?

This wretch has partly confessed his villainy. Did you and he agree together on Cassio's death?

Ay.

Yes.

Dear general, I never gave you cause.

Dear general, I never gave you any reason.

I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnar’d my soul and body?

I believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you please ask that half-devil why he has trapped my soul and body like this?

Demand me nothing. What you know, you know. From this time forth I never will speak word.

Ask me nothing. What you know, you know. From now on I will never speak a word.

What, not to pray?

What, not even to pray?

Torments will ope your lips.

Torture will open your lips.

Well, thou dost best.

Well, you are doing the best thing.

Sir, you shall understand what hath befall’n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter 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.

Sir, you shall learn what has happened, which I think you do not know. Here is a letter found in the pocket of the murdered Roderigo, and here is another. One of them describes the killing of Cassio, which Roderigo was to carry out.

O villain!

Oh, villain!

Most heathenish and most gross!

Utterly barbarous and utterly monstrous!

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 Came in and satisfied him.

Now here is another paper full of complaints, found in his pocket as well; and this one, it seems, Roderigo meant to send to this damned villain, except that, most likely, Iago came in meanwhile and talked him round.

O the pernicious caitiff! How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief That was my wife’s?

Oh, the destructive wretch! Cassio, how did you come by that handkerchief that belonged to my wife?

I found it in my chamber. And he himself confess’d but even now, That there he dropp’d it for a special purpose Which wrought to his desire.

I found it in my room. And he himself confessed just now that he dropped it there for a particular purpose which worked out as he wanted.

O fool! fool! fool!

Oh, fool! Fool! Fool!

There is besides in Roderigo’s letter, 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.

Besides that, in Roderigo's letter there is the part where he reproaches Iago for making him pick a fight with me on watch, which is how I came to be dismissed. And just now he spoke, after seeming dead for a long time: Iago wounded him, Iago put him up to it.

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, It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, Till that the nature of your fault be known To the Venetian state. Come, bring away.

You must leave this room and come with us. Your power and your command are taken from you, and Cassio governs in Cyprus. As for this wretch, if there is any ingenious cruelty that can torment him severely and keep him alive a long time, he shall have it. You will stay a close prisoner until the nature of your crime is made known to the Venetian state. Come, take him away.

Soft you; a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know’t. 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; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplex’d in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdu’d eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, 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 traduc’d the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus.

Wait a moment; a word or two before you go. I have done the state some service, and they know it. No more about that. I ask you, in your letters, when you report these unhappy events, to speak of me as I am. Soften nothing, and set down nothing out of malice. Then you must speak of a man who loved not wisely, but too much; of a man not easily made jealous, but who, once worked upon, was driven to the extreme; of a man whose hand, like the worthless Judean, threw away a pearl worth more than all his tribe; of a man whose defeated eyes, though unused to weeping, drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees drop their healing gum. Write this down. And say besides that once in Aleppo, where a spiteful Turk in a turban was beating a Venetian and slandering the state, I took the circumcised dog by the throat and struck him — like this.

O bloody period!

What a bloody ending!

All that’s spoke is marr’d.

Everything that was said is ruined.

I kiss’d thee ere I kill’d thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

I kissed you before I killed you. There is no other way but this: killing myself, so as to die on a kiss.

This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart.

I feared this, but I thought he had no weapon, because he was great-hearted.

[To Iago.] O Spartan dog, 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, 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 This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

[To Iago.] Oh, Spartan dog, more savage than agony, starvation, or the sea, look at the tragic cargo of this bed. This is your work. The sight is poison; let it be covered up. Gratiano, take charge of the house and take possession of the Moor's property, since it passes to you. To you, lord governor, is left the sentencing of this hellish villain — the time, the place, the torture: oh, carry it out! I myself will go straight aboard ship and, with a heavy heart, report this heavy business to the state.