Page 1522 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

I would have him nine years a-killing; a fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet
woman! [175]

IAGO
Nay, you must forget.

OTHELLO
And let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night, for she shall not live; no,
my heart is turn’d to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand: O, the world has

not a sweeter creature, she might lie by an [180] emperor’s side, and
command him tasks.

IAGO
Nay, that’s not your way.

OTHELLO
Hang her, I do but say what she is: so delicate with her needle, an admirable
musician, O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear; of so high and [185]

plenteous wit and invention!

IAGO
She’s the worse for all this.

OTHELLO
A thousand thousand times: and then of so gentle a condition!

IAGO
Ay, too gentle. [190]

OTHELLO
Ay, that’s certain, but yet the pity of it, Iago: O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!

IAGO
If you be so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for if it touches
not you, it comes near nobody. [195]

OTHELLO