Emil. I will not charme my Tongue;
I am bound to speake,
My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed
All. Oh Heauens, forefend
Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on
Othello. Nay stare not Masters,
It is true indeede
Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth
Mont. O monstrous Acte
Emil. Villany, villany, villany:
I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany:
I thought so then: Ile kill my selfe for greefe.
O villany! villany!
Iago. What, are you mad?
I charge you get you home
Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake:
'Tis proper I obey him; but not now:
Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home
Oth. Oh, oh, oh
Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare:
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent,
That ere did lift vp eye