| Othello | It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars. It is the cause. Yet ill not shed her blood, nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, and smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light. If i quench thee, thou flaming minister, i can again thy former light restore should i repent me. But once put out thy light, thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, i know not where is that promethean heat that can thy light relume. When i have plucked the rose, i cannot give it vital growth again. It needs must wither. Ill smell it on the tree. O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade justice to break her sword [he kisses her] one more one more. Be thus when thou art dead and i will kill ther and love thee after. One more and this the last [he kisses her] so sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep, but they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly: it strikes where it doth love. She wakes |
| Desdemona | Who’s there? Othello? |
| Othello | Ay desdomona |
| Desdemona | Will you come to bed, my lord? |
| Othello | Have you prayed tonight desdomon? |
| Desdemona | Ay my lord |
| Othello | If you think yourself of any crime unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, solicit for it straight |
| Desdemona | Alack my lord, what may you mean by that? |
| Othello | Well do it and be brief. I will walk by. I would not kill thy unprepared spirit. No heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. |
| Desdemona | Talk you of killing? |
| Othello | Ay i do. |
| Desdemona | Then heaven have mercy on me. |
| Othello | Amen, with all my heart. |
| Desdemona | If you say so, i hope you will not kill me. |
| Othello | Humh. |
| Desdemona | And yet i fear you, for you’re fatal then when your eyes roll so. Why i should fear i know not, since guiltiness i know not, but yet i feel i fear. |
| Othello | Think on thy sins. |
| Desdemona | They are loves i bear to you. |
| Othello | Ay and for that thou diest |
| Desdemona | That death’s unnatural that kills for loving. Alas, why gnaw you so your neither lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame. These are portents but yet i hope i hope. They do not point on me |
| Othello | Peace and be still |
| Desdemona | I will so, whats the matter? |
| Othello | That hankercheif which i so loved and gave thee thou gav’st to cassio. |
| Desdemona | No, by my life and soul! Send for the man and ask him. |
| Othello | Sweet soul, take heed take heed of perjury. Thou art on thy deathhead |
| Desdemona | Ay, but not yet to die |
| Othello | … |
Othello Scene
August 27, 2019