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Des. The poor soul sat singing by a sycamoretree,

[Singing 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 Sing willow, &c.

moans : Her salt tears fell from her, and soften’d the stones;

Sing willow, &c. Willow, willow, &c. (Pr’ythee, hye thee, he'll come anon.)

Sing all a green willow must be my gar

land. (73) Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve. Nay that's not next-Hark, who is it that knocks?

Æmil. It's the wind.
Des. I called my love false love; but what said
Sing willow, &c.

[he then? If I court more women, you'll couch with more

men. So, get thee gone, good night ; mine eyes do itch, Doth that bode weeping ?

Æmil. 'Tis neither here nor there.

(73) Desdemona's song of the willow, after she becomes lunatic, seems to have a reference to the same image of a willow in the moon, under which Ophelia in Hamlet was supposed to be drowned, in her attempt to hang a garland upon it.

Des. I have heard it said so; oh these men,

these men! Dost thou in conscience think, tell me, Æmilia, That there be women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind ? .

Æmil. There be some such, no question.

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

Æmil. Why, would not you?
Des. No by this heavenly light.

Æmil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light : I might do't as well ¿th dark.

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

Æmil. The world is a huge thing; It is a great price, for a small vice.

Des. In trot. I think thou wouldst not.

Æmil. In troth, I think I should ; and undo't when I had done. 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 all the whole world ; why, who would not make her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.

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

Æmil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly set it right.

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

Æmil. Yes, a dozen; and as many to th' vantage, Would store the world they played for. [as But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults, If wives do fall : say, that they slack their duties, , And pour out treasures into foreign laps ; Or else break out in peevish jealousies, Throwing restraint on us ; or say, they strike us, Or scant our former having in despight; grace, Why, have we galls, and though we have some 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. What is it that they do, When they change us for others? is it sport? I think it is ; and doth affection breed it ? I think it doth : is't frailty that thus errs.? It is so too. And have we not affections ?. Desires for sport ? and frailty, as men have ? Then let them use us well; else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us to. Des. Good-night, good-night; Heaven me such

. uses send, Not to pick bad from bad; but by bad mend !.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE--a Street before the Palace.

- Enter Iago and RODORIGO. Iago. 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 sword. Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed, Yet he hath given me satisfying reasons ; 'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword ; he dies.

Stands apart. Iago. I've rubbed this young knot almost to

the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Every way makes my gain. Live Rodorigo, He calls me to a restitution large Of gold and jewels, that I bob’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 peril;
No, he must die. Be it so; I hear him coming.

Enter CASSIO.
Rod. I know his gait; ’tis he: villain, thou diest.

[He runs at Cassio, and wounds him.
Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou knowest.
I will make proof of thine.

[Fight. lago cuts Cassio behind in the Leg,

and exit. Then Rodorigo and Cassio fall. Rod. Oh, I am slain. [murder! (74) Cas. I'm mained for ever ; help, hoa ! murder,

Enter OTHELLO above at a Window.
Oth. The voice of Cassio-lago keeps his word.
Rod. Oh, villain that I am !
Oth. It is even so.
Cas. Oh, help, ho! light ! a surgeon !- -

Oth. 'Tis he! oh brave lago, honest and just, That hath such noble sense of thy friend's wrong; Thou teachest me—Minion, your dear lies dead ;

(74) I'm maimed for ever. Observe, in the moon, the extended left leg of Cassio, with a mark as of a large cut in it.

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