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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 Tragedy of Othello

    3525Iag. Filth thou liest.
    Em. By heauen I doe not, I doe not Gentlemen,
    O murderous Coxcombe! what should such a foole
    Doe with so good a woman?
    3528.1The Moore runnes at Iago. Iago kils his wife.
    Oth. Are there no stones in heauen,
    3530But what serues for the thunder? pretious villaine.
    Gra. The woman falls, sure he has kild his wife.
    Em. I, I, O lay me by my mistresse side. Exit Iago.
    3535Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kild.
    Mon. Tis a notorious villaine, take your weapon,
    Which I haue here recouered from the Moore:
    Come, guard the dore without, let him not passe,
    But kill him rather, I'le after that same villaine,
    3540For tis a damned slaue. Exit Mont. and Gratiano.
    Oth. I am not valiant neither,
    But euery puny whipster gets my sword,
    But why should honour out liue honesty?
    Let it goe all.
    Em. Moore, she was chast, she lou'd thee cruell Moore,
    So come my soule to blisse, as I speake true;
    3550So speaking as I thinke, I die, I die. she dies.
    Oth. I haue another weapon in this chamber,
    It is a sword of Spaine, the Isebrookes temper;
    O here it is; Vncle I must come forth. Gra. within.
    Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere,
    3555Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
    Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake to me,
    Or naked as I am, I will assault thee.
    Gra. What is the matter?
    Oth. Behold, I haue a weapon,
    3560A better neuer did it selfe sustaine
    Vpon a Souldiers thigh: I haue seene the day,
    That with this little arme, and this good sword,
    I haue made my way through more impediments,
    Then twenty times you stop: but O vaine boast,
    3565Who can controule his Fate? tis not so now,