Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iago. In Complement externe, 'tis not long after
Iago. But I will weare my heart vpon my sleeue
Iago. For Dawes to pecke at; I am not what I am.
Rod. Rod.
Rod. What a fall Fortune do's the Thicks‑lips owe
Rod. If he can carry't thus?
Iago. Iago.
Iago. Call vp her Father:
Iago. Rowse him, make after him, poyson his delight,
Iago. Proclaime him in the Streets. Incense her kinsmen,
Iago. And though he in a fertile Clymate dwell,
Iago. Plague him with Flies: though that his Ioy be Ioy,
Iago. Yet throw such chances of vexation on't,
Iago. As it may loose some colour.
Rodo. Rodo.
Rodo. Heere is her Fathers house, Ile call aloud.
Iago. Doe, with like timerous accent, and dire yell,
Iago. As when (by Night and Negligence) the Fire
Iago. Is spied in populus Citties.