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American Shakespeare Center, Love's Labour's Lost. To Jun. 15, 2013.
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Othello (Quarto 1, 1622)

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Donald L. Bailey
Peer Reviewed
the Moore of Venice.
93

Helpe, helpe, ho helpe, O Lady speake againe,
Sweete Desdemona, O sweete Mistresse speake.
3390Des. A guiltlesse death I die.
Em. O who has done this deed?
Des. No body, I my selfe, farewell:
Commend me to my kinde Lord, O farewell.
she dies.
Oth. Why, how should she be murdered?
3395Em. Alas, who knowes?
Oth. You heard her say, her selfe, it was not I.
Em. She sayd so, I must needes report a truth.
Oth. She's like a lyer, gone to burning Hell,
'Twas I that kild her.
3400Em. O, the more Angell she,
And you the blacker diuell.
Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.
Em. Thou doest bely her, and thou art a diuell.
Oth. She was false as water.
3405Em. Thou as rash as fire,
To say that she was false: O she was heauenly true.
Oth. Cassio did top her, aske thy husband else,
O I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed, vpon iust grounds,
3410To this extremity, thy husband knew it all.
Em. My husband?
Oth. Thy husband.
Em. That she was false to wedlocke?
Oth. I, with Cassio: nay, had she bin true,
3415If heauen would make me such another world,
Of one intire and perfect Crisolite,
I'de not haue sold her for it.
Em. My husband?
Oth. I, twas he that told me first,
3420An honest man he is, and hates the slime,
That sticks on filthy deedes.
Em. My husband?
Oth. What needes this iteration? woman, I say thy husband.
Em. If he say so, may his pernitious soule
M 3
Rot