Imatges de pàgina
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To beggarly divorcement, love him dearly,

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Comfort forfwear me! Unkindness may do much firsto
And bis unkindnefs may defeat my life, A
But never taint my love! I can't say, whore;
It does abbor me, now I fpeak the word
To do the act, that might th' addition earn,
Not the world's mafs of vanity could make me:
Iago. I pray you, be content; 'tis but his
The bufinefs of the State does him offence,
"And he does chide with you."

Def. If 'twere no other,

Jago. It is but fo, I warrant.

LA 7 300 201 humour

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[Trumpets.

Hark, how thefe inftruments fummon to fupper!wal

And the great meffengers of Venice stay';

Go in, and weep not; all things fhall be well.

[Exeunt Defdemona and Æmilia.

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How now, Roderigo?

Rod. I do not find, that thou deal'ft justly with me, Jago. What in the contrary?

Red. Every day thou doft'ft me with fome device, Iago; and rather, as it seems to me now, keep'ft from me all conveniency, than fupplieft me with the leaft advantage of hope. I will, indeed, no longer endure it. Nor am I yet perfuaded to put up in peace what already 1 have foolishly fuffer'd.

Jago. Will you hear me, Roderige?

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Rcd. I have heard too much; and your words and performances are no kin together.

Iago. You charge me moft unjustly.

Rod. With nought but truth. I have wafted myself out of my means. The jewels you have had from me,

to

to deliver to Defdemona, would half have corrupted a Votarist. You have told me, fhe hath receiv'd them, and return'd me expectations and comforts of fudden refpect and acquaintance; but I find none.

Iago. Well, go to; very well.

Rod. Very well go to; I cannot go to, man, nor 'tis not very wells nay, I think, it is fcurvy, and begin to find myfelfefob'd in it d

Iago. very well. mid zil

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Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well. I will make myself known to Defdemona; if the will return me my jewels, I will give over my fuit, and repent my unlawful follicitation; if not, affure yourself, I will seek fatisfaction of you.

Iago. You have faid now

Rod. Ay, and faid nothing, but what, I proteft intendment of doing.

Iago. Why, now, I fee, there's mettle in thee; and even from this inftant do I build on thee a better opinion than ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo. Thou haft taken against me a moft juft exception; but, I proteft, I have dealt moft directly in thy affair. Rod. It hath not appear'd.

Iago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appear'd; and your fufpicion is not without wit and judgment. But Roderigo, if thou haft That in thee indeed, which I have greater reafon to believe now than ever, I mean, purpose, courage, and valour, this night fhew it. If thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, take me from this world with treachery, and devise engines for my life.

Rod. Well, what is it? Is it within reafon and bus

compafs?

lago. Sir, there's is fpecial commiffion come from Venice to depute Caffio in Othello's Place.

Rod. Is that true? Why, then Qtbello and Defdemona return again to Venice.

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3

Iago.

lago. Oh, no; he goes into Mauritania, and taketh away with him the fair Defdemona, unless his abode be linger'd here by fome accident: wherein none can be fo determinate, as the removing of Caffio.

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Red. How do you mean removing him?

Iago. Why, by making him incapable of Othello's Place; knocking out his brains. and aga Rod. And that you would have me to do?

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Iago. Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. He fups to-night with a harlot; and thither will I go to him. He knows not yet of his honourable fortune; if you will watch his going thence, which I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, you may take him at your pleasure. I will be near to fecond your attempt, and he fhall fall between us. Come, ftand not amaz'd at it, but go along with me; I will fhew you fuch a neceffity in his death, that you fhall think yourself bound to put it on him. It is now high supper-time; and the night grows to waste, About it.

Rod. I will hear further reason for this.
Iago. And you fhall be fatisfied.

[Exeunt,

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Enter Othello, Lodovico, Defdemona, Emilia, and

Attendants.

Lod. I do befeech you, Sir, trouble yourself no further.

Oth. Oh, pardon me; 'twill do me good to walk. Lod. Madam, good-night; I humbly thank your ladyfhip.

Def. Your Honour is most welcome.

Oth. Will you walk, Sir? Oh Desdemona!.
Def. My Lord.

Oth. Get you to bed on th' inftant. I will be return'd forthwith. Dismiss your attendant there. Look, it be done.

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Def. I will, my Lord.

[Exit.

Emil. How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did..

Def. He fays, he will return incontinent; And hath commanded me to go to bed,

And bid me to difmifs you.

Emil. Difmifs me?

Def. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly Wearing, and adieu.

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We must not now displease him.

Emil. I would, you had never seen him!

Def. So would not I; my love doth fo approve him,

That ev'n his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns,Pr'ythee, unpin me, have grace and favour in them. Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

Def. All's one. Good Father! how foolish are our minds?

If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, fhroud me
In one of these fame sheets.

Emil. Come, come; you talk.

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Def. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara,
She was in love; and he, the lov'd, prov'd mad,
And did forfake her. She had a fong of willow,
An old thing, 'twas, but it exprefs'd her fortune,
And the dy'd finging it. That fong to-night

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Will not go from my mind; Rue muchado, a
But to go bang my head all at one fide,not
And fing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, despatch.
Emil. Shall I go fetch your nightgown?cs I H
Def. No, unpin me here:
This Lodovico is a proper man.)

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Emil. A very bandsom man. 19597 obod jadi dioⱭ
Def. He speaks wellor sed edtion aT „JimR
Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have walk'd
barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
Def. The poor foul fat finging by a fycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow aroor ad grad Singing.
Her hand on her bofom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow: lim A
The fresh ftreams ran by her, and murmur'd her

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'moans;

Sing willow, &c.

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'Her falt tears fell from her, and foft'ned the ftones;

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'Sing willow, &c.

Willow, willow, &c.

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Power (Lay by thefe)

(Pr'ythee, bye thee, be'll come anon) Sing all a green willow must be my garland. 'Let no body blame him, his fcorn I approve. Nay that's not next-Hark, who is it that knocks? Emil. It's the wind.

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