Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iago. And like the Diuell from his very Arme
Iago. Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry?
Iago. Something of moment then: I will go meet him,
Iago. There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Iago. Exit.
Des. Des.
Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State,
Des. Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise
Des. Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him,
Des. Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases,
Des. Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things,
Des. Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so.
Des. For let our finger ake, and it endues
Des. Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense
Des. Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods,
Des. Nor of them looke for such obseruancie
Des. As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, Æmilia,
Des. I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am)
Des. Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule:
Des. But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse,