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  • Title: Othello (Quarto 1, 1622)
  • Editor: Donald Bailey
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-466-0

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Donald Bailey
    Peer Reviewed

    Othello (Quarto 1, 1622)

    The Moore of Venice.

    Cannot remoue, nor choke the strong conceit,
    That I doe groane withall: thou art to die.
    Des. The Lord haue mercy on me.
    Oth. I say Amen.
    3310Des. And haue you mercy too:
    I neuer did offend you in my life, --neuer lou'd Cassio,
    But with such generall warranty of heauen,
    As I might loue: I neuer gaue him token.
    Oth. By heauen I saw my handkercher in his hand,
    3315O periured woman, thou doest stone thy heart,
    And makest me call, what I intend to doe,
    A murder, which I thought a sacrifice,
    I saw the handkercher.
    Des. He found it then,
    3320I neuer gaue it him, send for him hither,
    And let him confesse a truth.
    Oth. He has confest.
    Des. What, my Lord?
    Oth. Thar he hath ----vds death.
    3325Des. How, vnlawfully?
    Oth. I.
    Des. He will not say so.
    Oth. No, his mouth is stop'd,
    Honest Iago hath tane order for't.
    3330Des. My feare interprets then, --what is he dead?
    Oth. Had all his haires bin liues,
    My great reuenge had stomacke for 'em all.
    Des. Alas he is betraid, and I vndone.
    Oth. O strumpet, ---weepest thou for him to my face?
    3335Des. O bannish me, my Lord, but kill me not.
    Oth. Downe strumpet.
    Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night.
    Oth. Nay, an you striue.
    Des. But halfe an houre, but while I say one prayer.
    Oth. Tis too late. he stiflles her.
    3342.1Des. O Lord, Lord, Lord. Emillia calls within.
    Em. My Lord, my Lord, what ho, my Lord, my Lord.
    M 2