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Let me but bind it hard, within this hour

It will be well again ".

Oth. Your napkin is too little. [She drops her handkerchief. Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you:

* Def. I am very forry that you are not well. [Exeunt.

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Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin "; This was her firft remembrance from the Moor; My wayward husband hath a hundred times Woo'd me to fteal it. But fhe fo loves the token, (For he conjur'd her, she should ever keep it) That fhe referves it evermore about her,

To kifs and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, z And give't Iago;

a What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I.

I nothing, but to please his fantasy.

Enter Iago.

Iago. How now? what do you here alone?

Emil. Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

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Emil. Ha?

d

Iago. To have a foolish wife,

Emil. O, is that all? What will you give me now

For that fame handkerchief?

Iago. What handkerchief?

Emil. What handkerchief?

Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ;
That which fo often you did bid me steal,
Jago. Haft ftole it from her?

f

Emil, No; but fhe let it drop by negligence; And to th' advantage, I, being here, took 't up. Look here it is,

Iago. A good wench, give it me,

Emil, What will you do with it, that you have been fo

earneft

To have me filch it?

Iago, Why, what is that to you?

[* Snatching it.

Emil. If 't be not for fome purpose of import,
Give me 't again, Poor lady! fhe'll run mad

When fhe fhall lack it.

Iago, "Be not you known on 't; I have use far it, Go,

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Are to the jealous confirmations ftrong
As proofs of holy writ. This may do fomething.

T

The Moor already changes with my poison:
Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste;
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of fulphur.—I did fay so.

SCENE VUI.

Enter Othello.

W

Look, where he comes! Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever inedicine thee to that fweet fleep,

Which thou owedft yesterday.

Oth. Ha, ha! false to me,

z to me?

Iago. Why how now, General? No more of that.

a

Oth. Avant! be gone! thou haft fet me on the rack. I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,

b

Than but to know't a little.

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d

Oth. What fenfe had I of her ftol'n hours of luft?

I faw 't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me;
I flept the next night well f; was free, and merry;
I found not Caffio's kiffes on her lips:

He that is robb'd, not wanting what is ftol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all,
Iago. I am forry to hear this.

Oth. I had been happy, if the general Camp,
Pioneers and all, had tafted her fweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh, now, for ever
Farewel the tranquil mind, farewel content,
Farewel the plumed & troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! oh, farewel!

i

g

Farewel the neighing fteed, and the fhrill trump,
The fpirit-ftirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumftance of glorious war!
And Oye mortal engines, whofe " rude throats
Th' immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewel! Othello's occupation's gone.

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c So all before P. he and the reft, except C. omit now.

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k W. proposes to read, th' fear. Sperfing fife, i. e. the fear-difperfing;

d The 3d f. fent for fenfe; the 4th f. but if this had been Shakespeare's meanand R. fcent. ing, he would have wrote it at length,

of.

The fo's, R. P. and H. read is for the fear difperfing fife, which would only have made the verfe an Alexandrine, a

f After well the fo's and R. add fed kind of verse he frequently makes use

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Iago. Is't poffible, my Lord?

Oth. Villain, be fure thou prove my love a whore;

[P Catching hold on him.

Be fure of it; give me the ocular proof,

Or, by the worth of mine eternal foul,

Thou hadst been better have been born a dog, 'Than answer my wak'd wrath.

Iago. Is 't come to this?

Oth. Make me to fee 't; or, at the leaft, fo prove it,

That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop,

To hang a doubt on: or woe upon thy life.
Iago. My noble Lord-

Oth. If thou doft flander her, and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;

On horror's head, horrors accumulate;

Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd;
For nothing canft thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Iago. O grace! O heaven defend me!

Are you a man? have you a foul, or sense?

God b' w' you. Take mine office." O wretched fool, That liv'ft to make thine honesty a vice!

W

Oh monftrous world! take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honeft, is not safe.

I thank you for this profit, and from hence

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