I can again thy former light restore 9 Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, 10 Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, 11 I know not where is that Promethean heat 12 That can thy light relume.
Scene 2
Enter Othello ⟨with a light,⟩ and Desdemona in her bed.
OTHELLO
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. 1
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars. 2
It is the cause. Yet I’ll not shed her blood, 3
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 4
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 5
Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men. 6
Put out the light, and then put out the light. 7
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 8
I can again thy former light restore 9
Should I repent me. But once put out thy light, 10
Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, 11
I know not where is that Promethean heat 12
That can thy light relume. . . .
