EMILIA.
O, my good lord, yonder’s foul murders done!
OTHELLO.
What, now?
EMILIA.
But now, my lord.
OTHELLO.
It is the very error of the moon,
She comes more nearer earth than she was wont
And makes men mad.
EMILIA.
Cassio, my lord, hath kill’d a young Venetian
Call’d Roderigo.
OTHELLO.
Roderigo kill’d?
And Cassio kill’d?
EMILIA.
No, Cassio is not kill’d.
OTHELLO.
Not Cassio kill’d! Then murder’s out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.
DESDEMONA.
O, falsely, falsely murder’d!
EMILIA.
Alas, what cry is that?