Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere;
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer
Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me,
Or naked as I am I will assault thee
Gra. What is the matter?
Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon:
A better neuer did it selfe sustaine
Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day,
That with this little Arme, and this good Sword,
I haue made my way through more impediments
Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast)
Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not so now.
Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd:
Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt
And verie Sea-marke of my vtmost Saile.
Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare:
Man but a Rush against Othello's brest,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench,
Pale as thy Smocke: when we shall meete at compt,
This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen,
And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle?
Euen like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue!
Whip me ye Diuels,
From the possession of this Heauenly sight:
Blow me about in windes, roast me in Sulphure,
Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire.
Oh Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh!
Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.
Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man?
Oth. That's he that was Othello: heere I am
Lod. Where is that Viper?
Bring the Villaine forth
Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable,
If that thou bee'st a Diuell, I cannot kill thee
Lod. Wrench his Sword from him
Iago. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd
Othel. I am not sorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue:
For in my sense, 'tis happinesse to die
Lod. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good,
Falne in the practise of a cursed Slaue,
What shall be saide to thee