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

       German

      SCENE V

       Table of Contents

      [Enter Emilia.]

      EMILIA

       ‘Las, what’s the matter? what’s the matter, husband?

      IAGO

       Cassio hath here been set on in the dark

       By Roderigo, and fellows that are ‘scap’d:

       He’s almost slain, and Roderigo dead.

      EMILIA

       Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio!

      IAGO

       This is the fruit of whoring.—Pr’ythee, Emilia,

       Go know of Cassio where he supp’d tonight.—

       What, do you shake at that?

      BIANCA

       He supp’d at my house; but I therefore shake not.

      IAGO

       O, did he so? I charge you, go with me.

      EMILIA

       Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet!

      BIANCA

       I am no strumpet, but of life as honest

       As you that thus abuse me.

      EMILIA

       As I! foh! fie upon thee!

      IAGO

       Kind gentlemen, let’s go see poor Cassio dress’d.—

       Come, mistress, you must tell’s another tale.—

       Emilia, run you to the citadel,

       And tell my lord and lady what hath happ’d.—

       Will you go on afore? [Aside.] This is the night

       That either makes me or fordoes me quite.

      [Exeunt.]

       German

      SCENE VI

       Table of Contents

      Cyprus. A Bedchamber in the castle: Desdemona in bed asleep; a light burning.

      [Enter Othello.]

      OTHELLO

       It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,—

       Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!—

       It is the cause.—Yet I’ll not shed her blood;

       Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,

       And smooth as monumental alabaster.

       [Takes off his sword.]

       Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men.

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

       If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,

       I can again thy former light restore,

       Should I repent me:—but once put out thy light,

       Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature,

       I know not where is that Promethean heat

       That can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d thy rose,

       I cannot give it vital growth again,

       It must needs wither:—I’ll smell it on the tree.—

       [Kissing her.]

       O, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade

       Justice to break her sword!—One more, one more;—

       Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,

       And love thee after.—One more, and this the last;

       So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep,

       But they are cruel tears: this sorrow’s heavenly;

       It strikes where it doth love.—She wakes.

      DESDEMONA

       Who’s there? Othello?

      OTHELLO

       Ay, Desdemona.

      DESDEMONA

       Will you come to bed, my lord?

      OTHELLO

       Have you pray’d tonight, Desdemona?

      DESDEMONA

       Ay, my lord.

      OTHELLO

       If you bethink yourself of any crime

       Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace,

       Solicit for it straight.

      DESDEMONA

       Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?

      OTHELLO

       Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by.

       I would not kill thy unpreparèd spirit;

       No,—heaven forfend!—I would not kill thy soul.

      DESDEMONA

       Talk you of killing?

      OTHELLO

       Ay, I do.

      DESDEMONA

       Then heaven have mercy on me!

      OTHELLO

       Amen, with all my heart!

      DESDEMONA

       If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

      OTHELLO

       Hum!

      DESDEMONA

       And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then

       When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,

       Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

      OTHELLO

       Think on thy sins.

      DESDEMONA

       They are loves I bear to you.

      OTHELLO

       Ay, and for that thou diest.

      DESDEMONA

       That death’s unnatural that kills for loving.—

       Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?

       Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:

       These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,

       They do not point on me.

      OTHELLO

       Peace, and be still!

      DESDEMONA

       I will so. What’s the matter?

      OTHELLO

       That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee

       Thou gav’st to Cassio.

      DESDEMONA