1    I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

2    O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk.

3    Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.

4    Your honour is most welcome.

5    Will you walk, sir?
6    O,--Desdemona,--

7    My lord?

8    Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned
9    forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done.

10   I will, my lord.

11   How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did.

12   He says he will return incontinent:
13   He hath commanded me to go to bed,
14   And bade me to dismiss you.

15   Dismiss me!

16   It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,.
17   Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu:
18   We must not now displease him.

19   I would you had never seen him!

20   So would not I my love doth so approve him,
21   That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns--
22   Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them.

23   I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.

24   All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
25   If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me
26   In one of those same sheets.

27   Come, come you talk.

28   My mother had a maid call'd Barbara:
29   She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
30   And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;'
31   An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
32   And she died singing it: that song to-night
33   Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
34   But to go hang my head all at one side,
35   And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.

36   Shall I go fetch your night-gown?

37   No, unpin me here.
38   This Lodovico is a proper man.

39   A very handsome man.

40   He speaks well.

41   I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot
42   to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.

Singing
43    The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
44   Sing all a green willow:
45   Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
46   Sing willow, willow, willow:
47   The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
48   Sing willow, willow, willow;
49   Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;
50   Lay by these:--
Singing
51   Sing willow, willow, willow;
52   Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:--
Singing
53   Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
54   Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
55   Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks?

56   It's the wind.

Singing
57    I call'd my love false love; but what
58   said he then?
59   Sing willow, willow, willow:
60   If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men!
61   So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch;
62   Doth that bode weeping?

63   'Tis neither here nor there.

64   I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
65   Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,--
66   That there be women do abuse their husbands
67   In such gross kind?

68   There be some such, no question.

69   Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

70   Why, would not you?

71   No, by this heavenly light!

72   Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
73   I might do't as well i' the dark.

74   Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

75   The world's a huge thing: it is a great price.
76   For a small vice.

77   In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

78   In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had
79   done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a
80   joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for
81   gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty
82   exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would
83   not make her husband a cuckold to make him a
84   monarch? I should venture purgatory for't.

85   Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
86   For the whole world.

87   Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and
88   having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your
89   own world, and you might quickly make it right.

90   I do not think there is any such woman.

91   Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would
92   store the world they played for.
93   But I do think it is their husbands' faults
94   If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
95   And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
96   Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
97   Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
98   Or scant our former having in despite;
99   Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
100  Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
101  Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
102  And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
103  As husbands have. What is it that they do
104  When they change us for others? Is it sport?
105  I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
106  I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs?
107  It is so too: and have not we affections,
108  Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?
109  Then let them use us well: else let them know,
110  The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

111  Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send,
112  Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend!