Activity 11 Othello Act 5 sc. 2
OTHELLO.
It is the reason, it is the reason, my soul,--
It is the reason, it is the reason, my soul,--
I'm not going to tell you, you chaste stars!--
It is the reason.--
Yet, i wont kill her;
No scar will be seen
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
[Takes off his sword.]
She must die,or she will break more men's hearts
Turn off the light, and then kill her:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
should i feel sorry when i kill her--
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--
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--
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