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

Def. I will, my Lord.

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

Def. He says, he will return incontinent; And hath commanded me to go to bed, And bid me to dismiss you.

Emil. Difmifs me?

Def. It was his bidding; therefore, good Emilia, Give me my nightly Wearing, and adieu. We must not now displease him.

Emil. I would, you had never seen him! Def. So would not I; my love doth so approve him,

That ev'n his ftubbornness, his checks, and frowns,Pr'ythee, unpin me, have grace and favour in them. Emil. I have laid thofe fheets 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, shroud me
In one of these same sheets.

Emil. Come, come; you talk.


Def. My mother had a maid call'd Barbara,
She was in love; and he, fhe 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

3- and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad,

And did forfake her :-] We hould read, -and be, fhe lov'd, forfook


And he prov'd mad:WARBURTON. I believe that mad only fignifies, wild, frantick, uncertain.


4 P've much ado,

Will not go from my mind,
But to go bang my head all at one fide,
And fing it like poor Barbara. Pr'ythee, despatch.
Amil. Shall I go fetch your night-gown?
Def. No, unpin me bere.

This Lodovico is a proper man.
Emil. A very bandsom man.
Def. He fpeaks well.


Emil. I know a lady in Venice would have walk'd barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether. Def. The poor foul fat finging by a sycamore-tree, Sing all a green willow:



Her hand on her bofcm, her head on her knee,

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Sing willow, willow, willow:

The fresh ftreams ran by her, and murmur'd her

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6 moans;

Sing willow, &c.

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


Sing willow, &c.

(Lay by thefe)

Willow, willow, &c.



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(Prythee, bye thee, he'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.

-I've much ado,

But to go hang my head I have much ado to do any thing but hang my head. We might read,

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Not to go hang my head. This is perhaps the only infertion made in the latter editions which has, improved the play. The reft feem to have been add ed for the fake of amplification or of ornament. When the imagination had fubfided, and the mind was no longer agitated by

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the horror of the action, it became at leifure to look round for specious additions. This addition is natural. Defdemona can at first hardly forbear to fing the fong; the endeavours to change her train of thoughts, but her imagination at laft prevails, and the fings it.

5 This fong, in two parts, is printed in a late collection of old ballads; the lines preferved here differ fomewhat from the copy difcovered by the ingenious collector.


Def. I call'd my love falfe love; but what faid he then? Sing willow, &c.

If I court more women, you'll couch with more


So get thee gone. Good night. Mine eyes do itch, Doth that bode weeping ?

Emil. 'Tis neither here nor there.

Def. I have beard it faid fo.


Ob these men, thefe

Doft thou in confcience think, tell me, Æmilia,
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In fuch grofs kind?

Emil. There be fome fuch, no question.
Def. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
Emil. Why, would not you?

Def. No, by this heavenly light.

Emil. Nor I neither, by this heavenly light:

I might do't as well i' th' dark.

Def. Wouldst thou do fuch a deed for all the world? Emil. The world is a huge thing,

It is a great price, for a finall vice.

Def. In troth, I think, thou wouldst not.

Emil. In troth, I think, I fhould; and undo't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do fuch a thing for a joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps; nor any petty exhibition. But for all the whole world; why, who would not make her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I thould venture' purgatory for't.

Def. Befhrew me, if I would do fuch a wrong For the whole world.

Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i' th' world;

6 I call'd my love false love ;-] This couplet is not in the ballad, which is the complaint, not of a woman for faken, but of a man

rejected. Thefe lines were probably added when it was accommodated to a woman.


and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right.

Def. I do not think, there is any fuch woman..

Emilia. Yes, a dozen; and as many to th' vantage, as would ftore the world they play'd for. But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults, If wives do fall. Say, that they flack their duties And pour our treasures into foreign laps; Or elfe break out in peevish jealoufies, Throwing restraint on us; or fay, they strike us; Or fcant our former Having in defpight; Why, we have galls, and though we have fome grace, Yet have we fome revenge. Let husbands know, Their wives have fenfe like them; they fee and smell, And have their palates both for fweet and four, As husbands have. What is it that they do, When they change us for others? Is it fport? I think, it is; and doth affection breed it? I think, it doth; is't frailty, that thus errs? It is fo too. And have not we affections? Defires for fports? and frailty, as men have? Then let them ufe us well; else let them know, The ills we do, their ills inftruct us to. Def. Good-night, good-night;


heaven me fuch

usage fend, Not to pick bad from bad; but by bad, mend!

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A Street before the Palace.

Enter Iago and Roderigo.


ERE, ftand behind this bulk. Straight will he



Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home;
Quick, quick, fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow.
It makes us, or it marrs us: think on that,
And fix moft firm thy refolution.

Rod. Be near at hand; I may mifcarry in't. lago. Here, at thy hand. Be bold and take thy ftand.

Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed,

Yet he hath giv'n me fatisfying reafons.

'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my fword. He dies.

Iago. I've rubb'd fenfe, And he grows angry.

[Stands apart. this young Quat almost to the

Now, whether he kill Caffio,


9 In some editions, I've rubb'd this young Gnat almoft to the fenfe, And he grows angry.] The rubbing a Gnat to fenfe, is, I believe, an experiment that never even was communicated to the Royal Society. The leaft frication, on the contrary, would not only VOL. VIII.

rub him out of all sense, but out of life into the bargain. The old quartos have it, Quat: a word, which, I confefs, I am abfolutely a ftranger to. I have ventur'd to conjecture,

I've rubb'd this young Knot,&c. The Knat, or Knot, is a fmall bird, plentiful with us, in LinG g colofhire

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