William Shakespeare - Sämtliche Werke von Shakespeare in einem Band - Zweisprachige Ausgabe (Deutsch-Englisch)

OTHELLO

Out, strumpet! Weep’st thou for him to my face?

DESDEMONA

O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!

OTHELLO

Down, strumpet!

DESDEMONA

Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight!

OTHELLO

Nay, if you strive,—

DESDEMONA

But half an hour!

OTHELLO

Being done, there is no pause.

DESDEMONA

But while I say one prayer!

OTHELLO

It is too late.

[Smothers her.]

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EMILIA

[Within.] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO

What noise is this?—Not dead? not yet quite dead?

I that am cruel am yet merciful;

I would not have thee linger in thy pain:—

So, so.

EMILIA

[Within.] What, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO

Who’s there?

EMILIA

[Within.] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!

OTHELLO

Yes:—‘tis Emilia:—by and by.—She’s dead.—

‘Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death;

The noise was high.—Ha! no more moving?

Still as the grave.—Shall she come in?—Were’t good?—

I think she stirs again:—no.—What’s best to do?

If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife:

My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.

O, insupportable! O heavy hour!

Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse

Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe

Should yawn at alteration.

EMILIA

[Within.] I do beseech you

That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!

OTHELLO

I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia:—

Soft,—by and by:—let me the curtains draw.—

Where art thou?

[Unlocks the door.]

[Enter Emilia.]

What’s the matter with thee now?

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?

OTHELLO

That! what?

EMILIA

Out, and alas! That was my lady’s voice.—

Help! help, ho! help!—O lady, speak again!

Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

DESDEMONA

A guiltless death I die.

EMILIA

O, who hath done this deed?

DESDEMONA

Nobody; I myself. Farewell:

Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!

[Dies.]

OTHELLO

Why, how should she be murder’d?

EMILIA

Alas, who knows?

OTHELLO

You heard her say herself it was not I.

EMILIA

She said so: I must needs report the truth.

OTHELLO

She’s like a liar, gone to burning hell:

‘Twas I that kill’d her.

EMILIA

O, the more angel she,

And you the blacker devil!

OTHELLO

She turn’d to folly, and she was a whore.

EMILIA

Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

OTHELLO

She was false as water.

EMILIA

Thou art rash as fire, to say

That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

OTHELLO

Cassio did tup her; ask thy husband else.

O, I were damn’d beneath all depth in hell,

But that I did proceed upon just grounds

To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

EMILIA

My husband!

OTHELLO

Thy husband.

EMILIA

That she was false to wedlock?

OTHELLO

Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,

If heaven would make me such another world

Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,

I’d not have sold her for it.

EMILIA

My husband!

OTHELLO

Ay, ‘twas he that told me first:

An honest man he is, and hates the slime

That sticks on filthy deeds.

EMILIA

My husband!

OTHELLO

What needs this iterance, woman? I say thy husband.

EMILIA

O mistress, villainy hath made mocks with love!—

My husband say that she was false!

OTHELLO

He, woman;

I say thy husband: dost understand the word?

My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

EMILIA

If he say so, may his pernicious soul

Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:

She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

OTHELLO

Ha!

EMILIA

Do thy worst:

This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven

Than thou wast worthy her.

OTHELLO

Peace, you were best.

EMILIA

Thou hast not half that power to do me harm

As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!

As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed,—

I care not for thy sword; I’ll make thee known,

Though I lost twenty lives.—Help! help, ho! help!

The Moor hath kill’d my mistress! murder, murder!

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[Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.]

MONTANO

What is the matter?—How now, general!

EMILIA

O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,

That men must lay their murders on your neck.

GRATIANO

What is the matter?

EMILIA

Disprove this villain, if thou be’st a man:

He says thou told’st him that his wife was false:

I know thou didst not, thou’rt not such a villain:

Speak, for my heart is full.

IAGO

I told him what I thought; and told no more

Than what he found himself was apt and true.

EMILIA

But did you ever tell him she was false?

IAGO

I did.

EMILIA

You told a lie; an odious, damnèd lie;

Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie:—

She false with Cassio!—Did you say with Cassio?

IAGO

With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.

EMILIA

I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:

My mistress here lies murder’d in her bed,—

ALL

O heavens forfend!

EMILIA

And your reports have set the murder on.

OTHELLO

Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.

GRATIANO

‘Tis a strange truth.

MONTANO

O monstrous act!

EMILIA

Villany, villany, villany!

I think upon’t,—I think,—I smell’t;—O villany!—

I thought so then;—I’ll kill myself for grief:—

O villany, villany!

IAGO

What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

EMILIA

Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:

‘Tis proper I obey him, but not now.—

Perchance, Iago, I will ne’er go home.

OTHELLO

O! O! O!

[Hanging over his wife.]

EMILIA

Nay, lay thee down and roar;

For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent

That e’er did lift up eye.

OTHELLO

[Rising.] O, she was foul!—

I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece,

Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp’d:

I know this act shows horrible and grim.

GRATIANO

Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father’s dead:

Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief

Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,

This sight would make him do a desperate turn,

Yea, curse his better angel from his side,

And fall to reprobance.

OTHELLO

‘Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows

That she with Cassio hath the act of shame

A thousand times committed; Cassio confess’d it:

And she did gratify his amorous works