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O, O, O!

O, O, O!
Othello falls on the bed.
Nay, lay thee down, and roar!
For thou hast killed the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye.
Othello, standing
O, she was foul!—
I scarce did know you, uncle. There lies your niece,
Whose breath indeed these hands have newly stopped.
I know this act shows horrible and grim.
Poor Desdemon, 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.

Act 5
Scene 2
Line 235

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Better Angels