Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Æmil. Giu't me againe. Poore Lady, shee'l run mad
Æmil. When she shall lacke it.
Iago. Iago.
Iago. Be not acknowne on't:
Iago. I haue vse for it. Go, leaue me.
Iago. Exit Æmil.
Iago. I will in Cassio's Lodging loose this Napkin,
Iago. And let him finde it. Trifles light as ayre,
Iago. Are to the iealious, confirmations strong,
Iago. As proofes of holy Writ. This may do something.
Iago. The Moore already changes with my poyson:
Iago. Dangerous conceites, are in their Natures poysons,
Iago. Which at the first are scarse found to distaste:
Iago. But with a little acte vpon the blood,
Iago. Burne like the Mines of Sulphure. I did say so.
Iago. Enter Othello.
Iago. Looke where he comes: Not Poppy, nor Mandragora,
Iago. Nor all the drowsie Syrrups of the world
Iago. Shall euer medicine thee to that sweete sleepe
Iago. Which thou owd'st yesterday.