Emil. [Within.] What ho! my lord, my lord! Oth. Who's there? Emil. [Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you. Oth. Yes;-'tis Emilia :-by and by.-She's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death: The noise was high.-Ha! no more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't good? Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe Emil. [Within.] I do beseech you I may speak with you, O, good my lord! Oth. I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia :Soft,-by and by :-Let me the curtains draw.Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now? [Unlocks the door. Enter EMILIA. Emil. O, good my lord, yonder's foul murder done. Oth. What? now ? Emil. But now, my lord. Oth. It is the very error of the moon; She comes more near the earth than she was wont, And makes men mad. Emil. Cassio, my lord, has kill'd a young Venetian, Call'd-Roderigo. Oth. Roderigo kill'd! And Cassio kill'd? Emil. No, Cassio is not kill'd. Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then murder's out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh. Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd! Emil, Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice!- Emil. O, who hath done This deed ? Oth. You heard her say herself, it was not I. Emil. She said so; I must needs report the truth. Oth. She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell; 'Twas I that kill'd her. Emil. O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil! Oth. She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. Oth. She was false as water. Emil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false: O, she was heavenly true! Oth. Cassio did tup her; ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity; Thy husband knew it all. Emil. My husband? Oth. Thy husband. Emil, That she was false to wedlock? Oth. Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it. Emil. My husband ? Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first; An honest man he is, and hates the slime That sticks on filthy deeds. Emil. My husband? Oth. What needs this iterance, woman ? I say, thy husband, Than thou wast worthy her. Oth. Peace, you were best.Emil. Thou hast not half the power to do me harm, As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed, I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man: He says, thou told'st him that his wife was false: I know, thou did'st not, thou'rt not such a villain; Speak, for my heart is full. Iago. I told him what I thought; and told no Emil. Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak; 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now: Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. Oth. O O O! 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! [Hanging over his wife. [Rising. I scarce did know you, uncle: There lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: I know, this act shows horrible and grim. Gra. Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead; Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Oth, 'Tis pitiful: but yet Iago knows, A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it: And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance and pledge of love It was a handkerchief, an antique token My father gave my mother. Emil. O heaven! O heavenly powers! Iago. Come, hold your peace. Emil. Twill out, 'twill out;-I hold my peace, Your sword upon a woman? Emil. O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of, I found by fortune, and did give my husband; (More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trifle,) Iago. Villainous whore! Emil. She give it Cassio! no, alás; I found it. And I did give't my husband. Iago. Filth, thou liest. Emil. By heaven, I do not; I do not, gentlemen: pon, Which I have here recovered from the Moor: [Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO. Emil. What did thy song bode, lady? Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan, [Dies. Oth. I have another weapon in this chamber; It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper;O, here it is:-Uncle, I must come forth. Gra. [Within]. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. Oth. Look in upon me then, and speak with me, Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee, Re-enter GRATIANO. Gra. What's the matter? Oth. Behold! I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, O cursed, cursed slave!-Whip me, ye devils, Enter LODOVICO, MONTANO, CASSIO, carried in a fable: Cas. Most heathenish, and most gross! Oth. O the pernicious caitiff! How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief Cas. I found it in my chamber: And he himself confess'd, but even now, Oth. O fool! foul! fool! Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,- Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us; That can torment him much, and hold him long, I have done the state some service, and they know it; Lod. O bloody period! Oth. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee;-No way but this. [Fulling upon DESDEMONA. Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies. Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon; For he was great of heart. Lod. O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! [To IAGO. This is thy work: the object poisons sight; [Exeunt. END OF THE DRAMATIC WORKS. EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn, Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase; Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn; Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him. Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began; "The field's chief flower, sweet above compare, Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man, More white and red than doves or roses are; A thousand honey-secrets shalt thou know: Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty: Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good; Under the other was the tender boy, Nimbly she fastens; (0, how quick is love!) To tie the rider she begins to prove: Backward she thrust him, as she would be thrust, And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust. So soon was she along, as he was down, Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips: And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, 'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.' He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; Then with her windy sighs, and golden hairs, To fan and blow them dry again she seeks: He says she is immodest, blames her 'miss; What follows more, she smothers with a kiss. Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone; Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin, And where she ends, she doth anew begin. Fore'd to content, but never to obey, Panting he lies, and breathing in her face; She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey, And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers, So they were dew'd with such distilling showers. Look how a bird lies tangled in a net, So fastened in her arms Adonis lies; For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale: Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; Till he take truce with her contending tears, Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet; And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt. Upon this promise did he raise his chin, Like a di-dapper peering through a wave Who being look'd on, ducks as quickly in; So offers he to give what she did crave: But when her lips were ready for his pay, He winks, and turns his lips another way. Never did passenger in summer heat More thirst for drink, than she for this good turn: Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; She bathes in water, yet in fire must burn: Oh, pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy; 'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 'I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, Even by the stern and direful god of war, Whose sinewy neck in batttle ne'er did bow, Who conquers where he comes, in every jar; His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, And I will wink, so shall the day seem night; Shows thee unripe; yet may'st thou well be tasted; Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gathered in their prime, Rot and consume themselves in little time. 'Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, Ill-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, O'er-worn, despised, rheumatic and cold, Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, Then might'st thou pause, for then I were not for thee; But having no defects, why dost abhor me? 'Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; Mine eyes are gray, and bright, and quick in turning; My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow, My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning: My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green, Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair, Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, From morn till night, even where I list to sport me: Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou should'st think it heavy unto thee ? Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? Steal thine own freedom, and complain of theft. Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse; Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty: Thou wert begot to get it is thy duty. "Upon the earth's increase why should'st thou feed, Unless the earth with thy increase be fed ? By law of nature thou art bound to breed, That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; By this, the love-sick queen began to sweat, With burning eye did hotly overlook them; And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me: Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth ? Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth? O, had thy mother borne so bad a mind, She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. What am I, that thou should'st contemn me thus ? Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute. Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain. Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, Statue, contenting but the eye alone, Thing like a man, but of no woman bred; Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion, For men will kiss even by their own direction.' This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, And swelling passion doth provoke a pause: Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong, Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause; And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, And now her sobs do her intendments break. Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand, Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; Sometimes her arms infold him like a band; She would, he will not in her arms be bound; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Sweet bottom-grass, and high delightful plain, At this Adonis smiles, as in disdain, Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? Her words are done, her woes the more increasing, The time is spent, her object will away, And from her twining arms doth urge releasing: 'Pity-(she cries) some favour-some remorse;'Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse. But lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by, A breeding jeunet, lusty, young and proud, Adonis' trampling courser doth espy, And forth she rushes, snorts, and neighs aloud; The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree, Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he. Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, And now his woven girths he breaks asunder, His ears up prick'd; his braided hanging mane As from a furnace, vapours doth he send; Of the fair breeder that is standing by.' In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone. strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide; Look what a horse should have, he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back. Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares; Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; To bid the wind a base he now prepares, And whe'r he run, or fly, they know not whether: For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings. He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her; She answers him, as if she knew his mind;" Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind; Spurns at his love, and scorns the heat he feels, Beating his kind embracements with her heels. Then, like a melancholy malecontent, He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume, Cool shadow to his melting buttocks lent: He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume: His love perceiving how he is enrag'd, Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag'd. His testy master goeth about to take him; When lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear, Jealous of catching, swifty doth forsake him, With her the horse, and left Adonis there; As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, Out-stripping crows, that strive to over-fly them. All swoln with chasing, down Adonis sits, That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage; Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; (Even as a dying coal revives with wind), How she came stealing to the wayward boy! How white and red each other did destroy ! But now, her cheek was pale, and by and by. It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. Now was she just before him as he sat, And like a lowly lover down she kneels; With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat, Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels; His tender cheeks receive her soft hand's print, As apt as new fallen snow takes any dint. O, what a war of looks was then between them! Her eyes, petitioners, to his eyes suing; His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them; Her eyes woo'd still; his eyes disdain'd the wooing; And all this dumb play had his acts made plain With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain. Full gently now she takes him by the hand, A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow, Or ivory in an alabaster band; So white a friend engirts so white a foe; This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, Show'd like two silver doves that sit a billing. Once more the engine of her thoughts began; 'O fairest mover on this mortal round, Would thou wert as I am, and I a man, My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound: For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee, Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.' 'Give me my hand,' saith he, why dost thou feel it?' 'Give me my heart,' saith she, and thou shall have it; O give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, And being steel'd soft sighs can never grave it: gone, I pray you hence, and leave me here alone; Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire; Servilely master'd with a leathern rein; And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee. O learn to love, the lesson is but plain, And once made perfect, never lost again.' 'I know not love,' quoth he, 'nor will I know it, My love to love is love but to disgrace it; They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth; The colt that's back'd and burthen'd being young, Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. "You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part, And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat; Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; To love's alarm it will not ope the gate. Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; For where a heart is hard, they make no battery.' 'What! canst thou talk,' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue ? O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; I had my load before, now press'd with bearing: Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sounding, Earth's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sorewounding. 'Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would lo ve Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts would move Yet would my love to thee be still as much; Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth, For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth. But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! For sharply he did think to reprehend her, Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! For on the grass she lies as she were slain, Till his breath breatheth life in her again. He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard; He chafes her lips, a thousand ways he seeks To mend the hurt that his unkinduess marr'd: He kisses her; and she by her good will, Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day: Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, So is her face illumin'd with her eye: Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd, As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine. Were never four such lamps together mix'd, Had not his clouded with his brows' repine; But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, Shone like the moon, in water seen by night. |