Othello (Folio 1, 1623)
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334
The Tragedie of Othello.¶So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch:
¶Doth that boade weeping?
¶Æmil, 'Tis neyther heere, nor there.
¶That there be women do abuse their husbands
¶Æmil. Why, would not you?
¶Des. No, by this Heauenly light.
¶Æmil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light:
¶I might doo't as well i'th'darke.
¶Æmil. The world's a huge thing:
¶It is a great price, for a small vice.
3045I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a
¶ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes,
¶Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for
¶all the whole world: why, who would not make her hus-
3050ture Purgatory for't.
¶For the whole world.
¶Æmil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th'world;
¶and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in
3055your owne world, and you might quickly make it right.
¶Æmil. Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th'vantage, as
¶would store the world they plaid for.
¶But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults
3060If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties,
¶And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps;
3065Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace,
¶Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know,
¶As Husbands haue. What is it that they do,
3070When they change vs for others? Is it Sport?
¶I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it?
¶I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres?
¶It is so too. And haue not we Affections?
¶Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue?
¶Des. Good night, good night:
¶Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.
Exeunt
3080
Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.
¶
Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.
¶Straight will he come:
¶Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home:
3085Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow,
¶It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that,
3090Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed,
¶'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies.
¶Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo,
¶He calles me to a restitution large
¶Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him,
¶As Guifts to Desdemona.
¶He hath a dayly beauty in his life,
¶That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore
¶May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill:
3105
Enter Cassio.
¶But that my Coate is better then thou know'st:
¶I will make proofe of thine.
¶Cassio. I am maym'd for euer:
¶Helpe hoa: Murther, murther.
¶
Enter Othello.
3115Rod. O Villaine that I am.
¶Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon.
3120Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead,
¶And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come:
¶For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted.
¶
Exit Othello.
3125
Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.
¶Murther, Murther.
¶Cas. Oh helpe.
3130Lodo. Hearke.
¶Rod. Oh wretched Villaine.
¶Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night;
¶To come into the cry, without more helpe.
¶
Enter Iago.
¶Lod. Hearke.
¶Weapons.
3140Iago. Who's there?
¶Who's noyse is this that cries on murther?
¶Lodo. We do not know.
¶Iago. Do not you heare a cry?
3145Iago. What's the matter?
¶Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it.
¶Iago. O mee, Lieutenant!
¶What Villaines haue done this?
¶Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout.
And
