as if he were going to do some rash thing, and still he demanded the handkerchief, which when she could not produce, she tried to divert her husband from too serious thoughts, and cheerfully told him, she saw all his talk about the handkerchief was only to put her off from her suit about Michael Cassio, whom she went on to praise (as Iago had foretold), till Othello in perfect distraction burst out of the room, and then Desdemona, though unwillingly, began to suspect her lord was jealous.

What cause she could have ministered to him she knew not, and then she accused herself for accusing the noble Othello, and thought to be sure that some untoward news from Venice, or some state troubles, had puddled his spirits, and made his temper not so sweet as formerly.  And she said, “Men are not gods, and we must not look for that observance from them when they are married, which they shew us on the bridal day.”  And she beshrewed herself for so unkindly judging of his unkindness.

Again Othello and Desdemona met, and he accused her more plainly of being unfaithful, and of loving another man, but he did not name whom:  and Othello wept, and Desdemona said, “Alas! the heavy day! why do you weep?” And Othello told her, he could have borne all sorts of evils with fortitude—­poverty, and disease, and disgrace; but her infidelity had broken his heart:  and he called her a weed, that looked so fair, and smelled so sweet, that the sense ached at it; and wished she had never been born.  And when he had left her, this innocent lady was so stupefied with wonder at her lord’s untrue suspicion of her, that a weight-like sleep came over her, and she only desired her attendant to make her bed, and to lay her wedding-sheets upon it, saying, that when people teach their babes, they do it by gentle means and easy tasks, and Othello might have chid her so; for in good faith she was but a child when she was chidden.  And this was all the complaint which this gentle lady made.

Desdemona being retired to bed expecting her lord would follow her, soon fell into a slumber the effect of her troubled spirits, when Othello entered the chamber, full of the black purpose which he had meditated of putting his lady to death.  But when he saw her asleep, he thought he would not shed her blood, nor scar that white skin of hers, more white than alabaster.  But he was resolved she should die; else (as he said) she would live to betray more men, as she had done him.  Then he kissed her for the last time (as he said), and that kiss was so sweet, he must needs kiss her again:  and he wept, but he said they were cruel tears.

Desdemona was awakened with his kisses, and she looked upon Othello, and she saw him gnaw his under-lip, and roll his eyes, and she knew he was always fatal when he looked so:  and he bade her prepare for death, and to say her prayers, for he would not kill her soul.  And this innocent wife, as she lay at his mercy, begged for compassion, and to know her fault, and then he named Cassio, and the handkerchief which (he said) she had given him; and as the guiltless lady was proceeding to clear herself, he suddenly would hear no more, but covering her up in the bed-clothes, stifled her till she died.