Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Othe. She swore in faith 'twas strange: 'twas passing strange,
Othe. 'Twas pittifull: 'twas wondrous pittifull.
Othe. She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
Othe. That Heauen had made her such a man. She thank'd me,
Othe. And bad me, if I had a Friend that lou'd her,
Othe. I should but teach him how to tell my Story,
Othe. And that would wooe her. Vpon this hint I spake,
Othe. She lou'd me for the dangers I had past,
Othe. And I lou'd her, that she did pitty them.
Othe. This onely is the witch‑craft I haue vs'd.
Othe. Here comes the Ladie: Let her witnesse it.
Othe. Enter Desdemona, Iago, Attendants.
Duke. Duke.
Duke. I thinke this tale would win my Daughter too,
Duke. Good Brabantio, take vp this mangled matter at the best:
Duke. Men do their broken Weapons rather vse,
Duke. Then their bare hands.
Bra. Bra.
Bra. I pray you heare her speake?
Bra. If she confesse that she was halfe the wooer,