DESDEMONA is asleep in bed. OTHELLO enters with a lit candle.
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. 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 plucked thy rose I cannot give it vital growth again, It must needs wither. I’ll smell thee on the tree. Oh, 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. (kissing her) One more, and that’s 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.
That's the reason for this, that's the reason, my soul. I won't say the reason to the chaste stars in the sky, but it is the reason. But I won't shed her blood, or scar that skin of hers that is whiter than snow and as smooth as alabaster. Still, she must die or else she'll betray more men. Extinguish the light, and then extinguish her light. If I extinguish you, flame, I can light you again if I have second thoughts. But as for you—you most artfully, excellently fashioned woman—once I put out your light, I don't know of any magical fire that can bring your life back. When I have plucked the rose of your life, I can't re-plant it again—it must wither. I'll smell you while you're still alive. Oh, your gentle breath almost persuades Justice herself to put away her sword! One more, one more kiss. If you look like this when you are dead, I will kill you and love you after. [He kisses DESDEMONA] One more, and that's the last. There was never anything so sweet and yet so deadly as you. I can't help but weep, but that is not a sign of pity. This sorrow is like that of God, who must strike down the creatures he loves. She's waking up.