Reading The Tragedie of Othello — William Shakespeare

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Section 1102

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Oth.

It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule)

Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres,

It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood,

Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow,

And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster:

Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men:

Put out the Light, and then put out the Light:

If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister,

I can againe thy former light restore,

Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light,

Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature,

I know not where is that Promethe□n heate

That can thy Light re‑Lume.

When I haue pluck'd thy Rose,

I ca□□ot giue it vitall growth againe,

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