Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. What is the matter? Behold, I have a weapon; A better never did itself sustain Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, That, with this little arm and this good sword, I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast! Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now. Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave! Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! Oh! Oh! Oh! Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? That's he that was Othello: here I am. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable. If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee. Wrench his sword from him. I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live; For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. O thou Othello, thou wert once so good, Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave, What shall be said to thee? Why, any thing: An honourable murderer, if you will; For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. This wretch hath part confess'd his villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? Ay. Dear general, I never gave you cause. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word. What, not to pray? Torments will ope your lips. Well, thou dost best. Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; And here another: the