What is the matter? — How now, general!
O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.
What is 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.
I told him what I thought; and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.
But did you ever tell him she was false?
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?
With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.
I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:
My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed, —
O heavens forfend!
And your reports have set the murder on.
Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.
'Tis a strange truth.
O 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!
What, are you mad? I charge you, get you 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.
O! O! O!
[Hanging over his wife.]
Nay, lay thee down and roar;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye.
[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.
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.
'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.
O heaven! O heavenly powers!
Come, hold your peace.
'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.
Be wise, and get you home.
I will not.
[Iago offers to stab his wife.]
Your sword upon 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.
She give it Cassio! no, alas, I found it,
And I did give't my husband.
Filth, thou liest!
By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. —
O murderous coxcomb! What should such a fool
Do with so good a wife?
Are there not stones in heaven
But what serve for thunder? — Precious villain!
[Iago stabs Emilia, and then runs out.]
The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.
Ay, ay: — O, lay me by my mistress' side.
He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.
'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.
[Exit Montano and Gratiano.]
I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword: —
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.
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.
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.