Act V.]
THE MOOR OF VENICE.
607
Though I lost twenty lives:—Help ! help, ho !
help! . ,
The Moor has kill’d my mistress : Murder !murder !
Enter Montaito, Gkatiano, and Iago .Mon. What is the matter!—How no w, general ?Emil. O, are you come, Iago ? you have donewell,
That men must lay tlicir murders on your neck.Gra. What is the matter ?
Emil. Disprove this villain, if thoube’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.
Iago . I told him what I thought; and toldno more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.Emil. But did you ever tell him, she was false?Iago . I did.
Emil. You told a lie; an odious, damned lie;Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie:—
She false with Cass.io!—Did you say with Cassio?Iago . With Casssio, mistress: Go to, charmyour tonguie.
Emil. I will not charm my tongue ; I ambound to speak;
My mistress here lies murder’d in her bed.
All. O heavens forefend!
Emil. And your reportshave set the murder on.Oth. Nay, stare not, masters; it is true, indeed.Gra. ’Tis a strange truth.
Mon. O monstrous act!
Emil. Villainy, villainy, villainy !—
I think upon’t,—I think,—I smell’t;—0 vil-lainy 1
I thought so then ;—I’ll kill myself for grief.—O villainy, villainy!
Iago . What, are you mad ? I charge you, getyou home.
Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave tospeak;
’Tis proper I obey him, but not now:—Perchance, Iago , I will ne’er go home.
Oth. 0 ! O ! O ! £Hanging over his wife.
Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar ;
For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent,
That e’er did lift up eye.
Oth. O, she was foul!— {^Rising.
I scarce did know you, uncle : There lies yourniece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newlystopp’d:
I know, this act shows horrible and grim.
Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father’sdead;
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure griefShore 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.
That she with Cassio hath the act of shameA thousand times committed: Cassio confess’d it:And she did gratify his amorous worksWith that recognizance and pledge of love,Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand;It was a handkerchief, an antique tokenMy father gave my mother.
Emil. 0 heaven ! 0 heavenly powers !
Emil. ’Twill out, ’twill out;—I hold my peace,sir? no;
No, I will speak as liberal as the air;
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.
Emil. I will not. Zj a S° offers to stab his wife.Gra. Fye!
Your sword upon a woman ?
Emil. 0 thou dull Moor! that handkerchiefthou 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.
Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alas; I found it,And I did give’t my husband.
Emil. Byheaven,Idonot; Ido not, gentlemen:O murd’rous coxcomb! what should such a foolDo with so good a wife ?
|~Jago stabs Emilia, then runs out.Oth. Are there no stones in heaven,
But what serve for the thunder ?—Precious vil-lain !
Gra. The woman falls; sure, he has kill’d hiswife.
Emil. Ay, ay; 0, lay me by my mistress’ side !Gra. He’s gone, but his wife’s kill’d.
Man. ’Tis a notorious villain. Take you thisweapon,
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.Oth. I am not valiant neither,
But every puny whipster gets my sword:—
But why should honour outlive honesty ?
Let it go all.
Emil. What did thy song bode, lady ?
Hark, can’st thou hear me ? I will play the swan,And die in music;— Willow, willow, willow. —Moor, she was chaste; she lov’d thee, cruelMoor;So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die,—I die. [^Dies.
Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber,It is a sword of Spain , the ice-brook’s temper;—0, here it is:—Uncle, I must come forth.
Gra. ^Within.^ If thou attempt it, it willcost thee dear;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.