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Des. So would not I: my love doth so approve him, That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frownsPrithee, unpin me-have grace and favour in them.

Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. Des. All's one.-Good father! how foolish are our minds!If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me

In one of those same sheets.

Come, come, you talk.
Des. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara ;
She was in love; and he she lov'd prov'd mad,
And did forsake her: she had a song of-willow;
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she died singing it: that song, to-night,
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it, like poor Barbara. Prithee, despatch.
Emil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown?


This Lodovico is a proper man.

Emil. A very handsome man.

Des. He speaks well.

No, unpin me here.

Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his nether lip.



The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore-tree,*

Sing all a green willow;

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,

Sing willow, willow, willow:


The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow:

Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;

Lay by these :—

Sing willow, willow, willow;

Prithee, hie thee: he'll come anon.—

Sing all a green willow must be my garland.


Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve―

Nay, that's not next.-Hark! who is 't that knocks?
Emil. It's the wind.

Des. I call'd my love, false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:

If I court mo women you'll couch with mo men.
So, get thee gone; good-night. Mine eyes do itch ;
Doth that bode weeping?


'Tis neither here nor there.

Des. I have heard it said so.-O, these men, these men !— Dost thou in conscience think-tell me, Emilia

That there be women do abuse their husbands

In such gross kind?


There be some such, no question.

Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

Emil. Why, would not you?


No, by this heavenly light!
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

Emil. The world's a huge thing: 'tis a great price.
Des. In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

Emil. In troth, I think I should. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for the whole world!—why, who would not make her husband a

cuckold to make him a monarch?

Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for the whole


Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong ï' the world; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.

Des. I do not think there is any such woman.

Emil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage

As would store the world !—

But, I do think it is their husbands' faults

If wives do fall: say, that they slack their duties,
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite ;

Why, we have galls; and, though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
Their wives have sense like them: they see, and smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. And have not we affections,
Desires, and frailty, as men have?

Then, let them use us well: else, let them know
The ills we do their ills instruct us so.

Des. Good-night, good-night: heaven me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!



Oth. What noise is this?-Not dead! not yet quite dead?
-Act V. Sc. 2.


SCENE I-A Street.


Tago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come: Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:

Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow:

It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,

And fix most firm thy resolution.

Rod. Be near at hand; I may miscarry in 't.

Iago. Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand.

[Retires to a little distance.

Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:"Tis but a man gone :-forth, my sword; he dies.

[Goes to his stand. Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense,1

And he grows angry. Now whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain:2 live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large

Of gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona;

It must not be if Cassio do remain,

He hath a daily beauty in his life

That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
No, he must die.-But so, I hear him coming.


Rod. I know his gait, 'tis he.-Villain, thou diest!

[Rushes from his post, and makes a pass at CASSIO.

Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou know'st ;
I will make proof of thine.

Rod. O, I am slain !

[Draws, and wounds RODERIGO.

[IAGO rushes from his post, cuts CASSIO behind

in the leg, and exit.

Cas. I am maim'd for ever.-Help, ho! murder! murder!

Enter OTHELLO, at a distance.

Oth. The voice of Cassio :-Iago keeps his word.
Rod. O, villain that I am!


It is even so. Cas. O, help, ho! light! a surgeon!

Oth. 'Tis he:-O brave Iago, honest and just, That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong ! Thou teachest me.-Minion, your dear lies dead, And your unblest fate hies: 3-strumpet, I come!



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