Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mon. Oth.
Mon. The Tragedie of Othello
Oth. Oth.
Oth. I am not valiant neither:
Oth. But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword.
Oth. But why should Honor out‑liue Honesty?
Oth. Let it go all.
Æmil. Æmil.
Æmil. What did thy Song boad Lady?
Æmil. Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan,
Æmil. And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough.
Æmil. Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore,
Æmil. So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true:
Æmil. So speaking as I thinke, alas, I dye.
Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber,
Oth. It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper:
Oth. Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come forth.
Gra. Gra.
Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere;