Othello

last,
    Â Â Â Â So sweet was ne’er so fatal: I must weep, [20]
    Â Â Â Â But they are cruel tears; this sorrow’s heavenly,
    Â Â Â Â It strikes when it does love: she wakes.
    DESDEMONA. Who’s there? Othello?
    OTHELLO. Ay, Desdemona.
    DES DEMONA. Will you come to bed, my lord?
    OTHELLO. Have you pray’d to-night, Desdemona?
    DESD EMONA. Ay, my lord. [25]
    OTHELLO. If you bethink yourself of any crime,
    Â Â Â Â  Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace,
    Â Â Â Â  Solicit for it straight.
    DESDEMONA. Alas, my lord, what may you mean by that?
    OTHE LLO. Well, do it, and be brief, I will walk by, [30]
    Â Â Â Â I would not kill thy unprepared spirit,
    Â Â Â Â No, heaven forfend , I would not kill thy soul.
    DESDEMONA. Talk you of killing?
    OTHELLO. Ay, I do.
    DESDEMONA. Then heaven
    Â Â Â Â Have mercy on me!
    OT HELLO. Amen, with all my heart!
    DESDEMONA. If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. [35]
    OTHELLO. Hum!
    DESDEMONA. And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then,
    Â Â Â Â When your eyes roll so: why I should fear, I know not,
    Â Â Â Â  Sin ce guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear.
    OTHELLO. Think on thy sins.
    DESDEMONA. They are loves I bear to you. [40]
    OTHELLO. And for that thou diest.
    DESDEMONA. That death’s unnatural, that kills for loving;
    Â Â Â Â Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
    Â Â Â Â Some bloody passion shakes your very frame,
    Â Â Â Â These are portent s ; but yet I hope, I hope, [45]
    Â Â Â Â They do not point on me.
    OTHELLO. Peace, and be still!
    DESDEMONA. I will, so, what’s the matter?
    OTHELLO. That handkerchief which I so lov’d, and gave thee,
    Â Â Â Â Thou gavest to Cassio.
    DESDEMONA. No, by my life and soul,
    Â Â Â Â Send for the man and ask him. [50]
    OTHELLO. Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury ,
    Â Â Â Â Thou art on thy death-bed.
    DESDEMONA. Ay, but not yet to die.
    OTHELLO. Yes, presently:
    Â Â Â Â Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin,
    Â Â Â Â For to deny each article with oath [55]
    Â Â Â Â Cannot remove, nor choke the strong conceit,
    Â Â Â Â That I do groan withal: thou art to die.
    DESDEMONA. Then Lord have mercy on me!
    OTHELLO. I say, amen.
    DESDEMONA. And have you mercy too! I never did
    Â Â Â Â Offend you in my life, ... never lov’d Cassio, [60]
    Â Â Â Â But with such general warranty of heaven,
    Â Â Â Â As I might love: I never gave him token.
    OTHELLO. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in his hand:
    Â Â Â Â O perjur’d woman, thou dost stone thy heart,
    Â Â Â Â And makest me call what I intend to do [65]
    Â Â Â Â A murder, which I thought a sacrifice;
    Â Â Â Â I saw the handkerchief.
    DESDEMONA. He found it then,
    Â Â Â Â I never gave it him, send for him hither,
    Â Â Â Â And let him confess a truth.
    OTHELLO. He hath confess’d.
    DESDEMONA. What, my lord? [70]
    OTHELLO. That he hath ... us’d thee.
    DESDEMONA. How? unlawfully?
    OTHELLO. Ay.
    DESDEMONA. He will not say so.
    OTHELLO. No, his mouth is stopp’d,
    Â Â Â Â Honest Iago hath ta’en order for ’t.
    DESDEMONA. My fear interprets then, ...
    Â Â Â Â What, is he dead?
    OTHELLO. Had all his hairs been lives, [75]
    Â Â Â Â My great revenge had stomach for ’em all.
    DESDEMONA. Alas, he is betray’d, and I undone.
    OTHELLO. O strumpet, ... weepest thou for him to my face?
    DESDEMONA. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not.
    OTHELLO. Down, strumpet! [80]
    DESDEMONA. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night.
    OTHELLO. Nay, an you strive, –
    DESDEMONA. But half an hour, but while I say one prayer!
    OTHELLO. ’Tis too late.
    (He stifle s her.)
    DESDEMON A. O Lord, Lord, Lord! [85]
    EMILIA (within). My lord, my lord! what, ho, my lord, my lord!
    OTHELLO. What voice is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
    Â Â Â Â I that am cruel, am yet merciful,
    Â Â Â Â I would not have thee linger in thy pain, ...
    Â Â Â Â So, so.
    EMILIA (within). What ho, my lord, my lord!
    OTHELLO. Who’s there? [90]
    EMILIA (within). O good my lord, I ’ld speak a word with you!
    OTHELLO. Yes, ’tis Emilia, by and by: she’s dead:
    Â Â Â Â â€™Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death;
    Â Â Â Â The noise was here; ha, no more