Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Oth. Oth.
Oth. Was that mine?
Iago. Iago.
Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes
Iago. the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him,and he
Iago. hath giu'n it his whore.
Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing:
Oth. A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?
Iago. Nay, you must forget that.
Othello. Othello.
Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to
Othello. night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to
Othello. stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
Othello. hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Em
Othello. perours side, and command him Taskes.
Iago. Nay, that's not your way.
Othe. Othe.