Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. Des. All's one:-Good father! how foolish are our minds! If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me Emil. Des. This Lodovico is a proper man. Emil. A very handsome man. And he speaks well. Emil. I know a lady in Venice, who would have walked barefoot to Palestine, for a touch of his nether lip. I. Des. The poor soul' sat sighing by a sycamore tree, Sing all a green willow; [Singing. Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: 3 and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad,] Mad, in the present instance, ought to mean-inconstant. I have much to do, But to go hang my head-] I have much ado to do any thing but hang my head. "The poor soul, &c.] This song, in two parts, is printed in Dr. Percy's collection of old ballads; the lines preserved here differ somewhat from the copy discovered by the ingenious collector. The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, &c. Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; Lay by these: Sing willow, willow, willow; Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon.— Sing all a green willow must be my garlánd. II. Let nobody blame him, his scorn I approve,— Nay, that's not next.-Hark! who is it that knocks? Emil. It is the wind. Des. I call'd my love, false love; but what said he then? Sing willow, &c. If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men. So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch; Doth that bode weeping? Emil. "Tis neither here nor there. Des. I have heard it said so.-O, these men, these men! Dost thou in conscience think,-tell me, Emilia,— That there be women do abuse their husbands In such gross kind? Emil. I call'd my love, false love ;] This couplet is not in the ballad, which is the complaint, not of a woman forsaken, but of a man rejected. These lines were properly added when it was accommodated to a woman. Emil. Why, would not you? Des. No, by this heavenly light! Emil. Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do't as well i'the dark. Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? Emil. The world is a huge thing: 'Tis a great price For a small vice. Des. Good troth, I think thou would'st not. Emil. By my troth, I think I should; and undʊ'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 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. Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'the world; and, having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it right. Des. I do not think there is any such woman. 8 To the vantage, as would store the world they play'd for. But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults, Throwing restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us, Why, we have galls; and, though we have some grace, Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know, 7 lovers. 9 - for a joint-ring;] Anciently a common token among To the vantage,] i. e. to boot, over and above. our former having-] Our former allowance of expence. Their wives have sense like them: they see, and smell, Des. Good night, good night: Heaven me such usage send, Not to pick bad from bad; but, by bad, mend! ACT V [Exeunt. SCENE 1. A Street. Enter IAGO and RODERIGO. 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. [Retires to a little distance. Rod. I have no great devotion to the deed; And yet he has given me satisfying reasons:'Tis but a man gone:-forth, my sword; he dies. [Goes to his stand. Iago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense, And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Every way makes my gain: Live Roderigo, Of gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd from him,2 It must not be: if Cassio do remain, He hath a daily beauty in his life, That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor Enter CASSIO. Rod. I know his gait, 'tis he;-Villain, thou diest. [Rushes from his post, and makes a pass at CASSIO. Cas. That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, But that my coat is better than thou think'st; I will make proof of thine. Rod. [Draws, and wounds RODERIGO. O, I am slain! [IAGO rushes from his post, cuts CASSIO behind in the Leg, and exit. Cas. I am maim'd for ever:-Help, ho! murder! murder! 1 I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense, [Falls. And he grows angry.] This is a passage much controverted among the editors. A quat in the midland counties is a pimple, which by rubbing is made to smart, or is rubbed to sense. Roderigo is called a quat by the same mode of speech, as a low fellow is now termed in low language a scab. To rub to the sense, is to rub to the quick. JOHNSON. 2 that I bobb'd from him,] That I fool'd him out of. A bob formerly signified a mock, or jeer. 3 in the leg,] Iago maims Cassio in the leg, in consequence of what he had just heard him say, from which he supposed that his body was defended by some secret armour. |