Othello (Quarto 1, 1622)
Peer Reviewed
24
The Tragedy of Othello
¶Iag. I know too much.
875Mary, before your Ladiship I grant,
¶She puts her tongue a little in her heart,
¶And chides with thinking.
¶Iag. Come on, Come on, you are Pictures out adores:
880Bells in your Parlors: Wildcats in your Kitchins:
¶Saints in your iniuries: Diuells being offended:
¶O fie vpon thee slanderer.
¶You rise to play, and goe to bed to worke.
¶Iag. No, let me not.
¶Iag. O gentle Lady, doe not put me to't,
¶For I am nothing, if not Criticall.
895Iag. I Madam.
¶Desd. I am not merry, but I doe beguile
¶Iag. I am about it, but indeed my inuention
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from freeze,
900It plucks out braine and all: but my Muse labors,
¶And thus she is deliuer'd:
For
