Cassio. Is your Englishmen so exquisite in his drinking?

Iago. Why, he drinkes you with facillitie, your Dane

dead drunke. He sweates not to ouerthrow your Almaine.

He giues your Hollander a vomit, ere the next

Pottle can be fill'd

Cas. To the health of our Generall

Mon. I am for it Lieutenant: and Ile do you Iustice

Iago. Oh sweet England.

King Stephen was anda worthy Peere,

His Breeches cost him but a Crowne,

He held them Six pence all to deere,

With that he cal'd the Tailor Lowne:

He was a wight of high Renowne,

And thou art but of low degree:

'Tis Pride that pulls the Country downe,

And take thy awl'd Cloake about thee.

Some Wine hoa

Cassio. Why this is a more exquisite Song then the other

Iago. Will you heare't againe?

Cas. No: for I hold him to be vnworthy of his Place,

that do's those things. Well: heau'ns aboue all: and

there be soules must be saued, and there be soules must

not be saued

Iago. It's true, good Lieutenant

Cas. For mine owne part, no offence to the Generall,

nor any man of qualitie: I hope to be saued

Iago. And so do I too Lieutenant

Cassio. I: (but by your leaue) not before me. The

Lieutenant is to be saued before the Ancient. Let's haue

no more of this: let's to our Affaires. Forgiue vs our

sinnes: Gentlemen let's looke to our businesse. Do not

thinke Gentlemen, I am drunke: this is my Ancient, this

is my right hand, and this is my left. I am not drunke

now: I can stand well enough, and I speake well enough

Gent. Excellent well

Cas. Why very well then: you must not thinke then,

that I am drunke.

Enter.

Monta. To th' Platforme (Masters) come, let's set the

Watch

Iago. You see this Fellow, that is gone before,

He's a Souldier, fit to stand by Caesar,

And giue direction. And do but see his vice,

'Tis to his vertue, a iust Equinox,

The one as long as th' other. 'Tis pittie of him:

I feare the trust Othello puts him in,

On some odde time of his infirmitie

Will shake this Island

Mont. But is he often thus?

Iago. 'Tis euermore his prologue to his sleepe,

He'le watch the Horologe a double Set,

If Drinke rocke not his Cradle

Mont. It were well

The Generall were put in mind of it:

Perhaps he sees it not, or his good nature

Prizes the vertue that appeares in Cassio,

And lookes not on his euills: is not this true?

Enter Rodorigo.

Iago. How now Rodorigo?

I pray you after the Lieutenant, go

Mon. And 'tis great pitty, that the Noble Moore

Should hazard such a Place, as his owne Second

With one of an ingraft Infirmitie,

It were an honest Action, to say so

To the Moore

Iago. Not I, for this faire Island,

I do loue Cassio well: and would do much

To cure him of this euill, But hearke, what noise?

Enter Cassio pursuing Rodorigo.

Cas. You Rogue: you Rascall

Mon. What's the matter Lieutenant?

Cas. A Knaue teach me my dutie? Ile beate the

Knaue in to a Twiggen-Bottle

Rod. Beate me?

Cas. Dost thou prate, Rogue?

Mon. Nay, good Lieutenant:

I pray you Sir, hold your hand

Cassio. Let me go (Sir)

Or Ile knocke you o're the Mazard

Mon. Come, come: you're drunke

Cassio. Drunke?

Iago. Away I say: go out and cry a Mutinie.

Nay good Lieutenant. Alas Gentlemen:

Helpe hoa. Lieutenant. Sir Montano:

Helpe Masters. Heere's a goodly Watch indeed.

Who's that which rings the Bell: Diablo, hoa:

The Towne will rise. Fie, fie Lieutenant,

You'le be asham'd for euer.

Enter Othello, and Attendants.

Othe. What is the matter heere?

Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to th' death. He dies

Othe. Hold for your liues

Iag. Hold hoa: Lieutenant, Sir Montano, Gentlemen:

Haue you forgot all place of sense and dutie?

Hold. The Generall speaks to you: hold for shame

Oth. Why how now hoa? From whence ariseth this?

Are we turn'd Turkes? and to our selues do that

Which Heauen hath forbid the Ottamittes.

For Christian shame, put by this barbarous Brawle:

He that stirs next, to carue for his owne rage,

Holds his soule light: He dies vpon his Motion.

Silence that dreadfull Bell, it frights the Isle,

From her propriety. What is the matter, Masters?

Honest Iago, that lookes dead with greeuing,

Speake: who began this? On thy loue I charge thee?

Iago. I do not know: Friends all, but now, euen now.

In Quarter, and in termes like Bride, and Groome

Deuesting them for Bed: and then, but now:

(As if some Planet had vnwitted men)

Swords out, and tilting one at others breastes,

In opposition bloody. I cannot speake

Any begining to this peeuish oddes.

And would, in Action glorious, I had lost

Those legges, that brought me to a part of it

Othe. How comes it (Michaell) you are thus forgot?

Cas. I pray you pardon me, I cannot speake

Othe. Worthy Montano, you were wont to be ciuill:

The grauitie, and stillnesse of your youth

The world hath noted. And your name is great

In mouthes of wisest Censure. What's the matter

That you vnlace your reputation thus,

And spend your rich opinion, for the name

Of a night-brawler? Giue me answer to it

Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger,

Your Officer Iago, can informe you,

While I spare speech which something now offends me.

Of all that I do know, nor know I ought

By me, that's said, or done amisse this night,

Vnlesse selfe-charitie be sometimes a vice,

And to defend our selues, it be a sinne

When violence assailes vs

Othe. Now by Heauen,

My blood begins my safer Guides to rule,

And passion (hauing my best iudgement collied)

Assaies to leade the way. If I once stir,

Or do but lift this Arme, the best of you

Shall sinke in my rebuke. Giue me to know

How this foule Rout began: Who set it on,

And he that is approu'd in this offence,

Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth,

Shall loose me. What in a Towne of warre,

Yet wilde, the peoples hearts brim-full of feare,

To Manage priuate, and domesticke Quarrell?

In night, and on the Court and Guard of safetie?

'Tis monstrous: Iago, who began't?

Mon. If partially Affin'd, or league in office,

Thou dost deliuer more, or lesse then Truth,

Thou art no Souldier

Iago. Touch me not so neere,

I had rather haue this tongue cut from my mouth,

Then it should do offence to Michaell Cassio.

Yet I perswade my selfe, to speake the truth

Shall nothing wrong him. This it is Generall:

Montano and my selfe being in speech,

There comes a Fellow, crying out for helpe,

And Cassio following him with determin'd Sword

To execute vpon him. Sir, this Gentleman,

Steppes in to Cassio, and entreats his pause:

My selfe, the crying Fellow did pursue,

Least by his clamour (as it so fell out)

The Towne might fall in fright. He, (swift of foote)

Out-ran my purpose: and I return'd then rather

For that I heard the clinke, and fall of Swords,

And Cassio high in oath: Which till to night

I nere might say before. When I came backe

(For this was briefe) I found them close together

At blow, and thrust, euen as againe they were

When you your selfe did part them.

More of this matter cannot I report,

But Men are Men: The best sometimes forget,

Though Cassio did some little wrong to him,

As men in rage strike those that wish them best,

Yet surely Cassio, I beleeue receiu'd

From him that fled, some strange Indignitie,

Which patience could not passe

Othe. I know Iago

Thy honestie, and loue doth mince this matter,

Making it light to Cassio: Cassio, I loue thee,

But neuer more be Officer of mine.

Enter Desdemona attended.

Looke if my gentle Loue be not rais'd vp:

Ile make thee an example

Des. What is the matter (Deere?)

Othe. All's well, Sweeting:

Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,

My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off:

Iago, looke with care about the Towne,

And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted.

Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldiers life,

To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.

Enter.

Iago. What are you hurt Lieutenant?

Cas. I, past all Surgery

Iago. Marry Heauen forbid

Cas. Reputation, Reputation, Reputation: Oh I haue

lost my Reputation. I haue lost the immortall part of

myselfe, and what remaines is bestiall. My Reputation,

Iago, my Reputation

Iago. As I am an honest man I had thought you had

receiued some bodily wound; there is more sence in that

then in Reputation. Reputation is an idle, and most false

imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deseruing.

You haue lost no Reputation at all, vnlesse you

repute your selfe such a looser. What man, there are

more wayes to recouer the Generall againe. You are

but now cast in his moode, (a punishment more in policie,

then in malice) euen so as one would beate his offencelesse

dogge, to affright an Imperious Lyon. Sue to

him againe, and he's yours

Cas. I will rather sue to be despis'd, then to deceiue

so good a Commander, with so slight, so drunken, and so

indiscreet an Officer. Drunke? And speake Parrat? And

squabble? Swagger? Sweare? And discourse Fustian

with ones owne shadow? Oh thou invisible spirit of

Wine, if thou hast no name to be knowne by, let vs call

thee Diuell

Iago. What was he that you follow'd with your

Sword? What had he done to you?

Cas. I know not

Iago. Is't possible?

Cas. I remember a masse of things, but nothing distinctly:

a Quarrell, but nothing wherefore. Oh, that

men should put an Enemie in their mouthes, to steale away

their Braines? that we should with ioy, pleasance,

reuell and applause, transforme our selues into Beasts

Iago. Why? But you are now well enough: how

came you thus recouered?

Cas. It hath pleas'd the diuell drunkennesse, to giue

place to the diuell wrath, one vnperfectnesse, shewes me

another to make me frankly despise my selfe

Iago. Come, you are too seuere a Moraller. As the

Time, the Place, & the Condition of this Country stands

I could hartily wish this had not befalne: but since it is, as

it is, mend it for your owne good

Cas. I will aske him for my Place againe, he shall tell

me, I am a drunkard: had I as many mouthes as Hydra,

such an answer would stop them all. To be now a sensible

man, by and by a Foole, and presently a Beast. Oh

strange! Euery inordinate cup is vnbless'd, and the Ingredient

is a diuell

Iago. Come, come: good wine, is a good familiar

Creature, if it be well vs'd: exclaime no more against it.

And good Lieutenant, I thinke, you thinke I loue

you

Cassio. I haue well approued it, Sir. I drunke?

Iago. You, or any man liuing, may be drunke at a

time man. I tell you what you shall do: Our General's

Wife, is now the Generall. I may say so, in this respect,

for that he hath deuoted, and giuen vp himselfe to the

Contemplation, marke: and deuotement of her parts

and Graces. Confesse your selfe freely to her: Importune

her helpe to put you in your place againe. She is

of so free, so kinde, so apt, so blessed a disposition,

she holds it a vice in her goodnesse, not to do more

then she is requested. This broken ioynt betweene

you, and her husband, entreat her to splinter. And my

Fortunes against any lay worth naming, this cracke of

your Loue, shall grow stronger, then it was before

Cassio. You aduise me well

Iago. I protest in the sinceritie of Loue, and honest

kindnesse

Cassio. I thinke it freely: and betimes in the morning,

I will beseech the vertuous Desdemona to vndertake

for me: I am desperate of my Fortunes if they check me

Iago. You are in the right: good night Lieutenant, I

must to the Watch

Cassio. Good night, honest Iago.

Exit Cassio.

Iago. And what's he then,

That saies I play the Villaine?

When this aduise is free I giue, and honest,

Proball to thinking, and indeed the course

To win the Moore againe.

For 'tis most easie

Th' inclyning Desdemona to subdue

In any honest Suite. She's fram'd as fruitefull

As the free Elements. And then for her

To win the Moore, were to renownce his Baptisme,

All Seales, and Simbols of redeemed sin:

His Soule is so enfetter'd to her Loue,

That she may make, vnmake, do what she list,

Euen as her Appetite shall play the God,

With his weake Function. How am I then a Villaine,

To Counsell Cassio to this paralell course,

Directly to his good? Diuinitie of hell,

When diuels will the blackest sinnes put on,

They do suggest at first with heauenly shewes,

As I do now. For whiles this honest Foole

Plies Desdemona, to repaire his Fortune,

And she for him, pleades strongly to the Moore,

Ile powre this pestilence into his eare:

That she repeales him, for her bodies Lust,

And by how much she striues to do him good,

She shall vndo her Credite with the Moore.

So will I turne her vertue into pitch.

And out of her owne goodnesse make the Net,

That shall en-mash them all.

How now Rodorigo?

Enter Rodorigo.

Rodorigo. I do follow heere in the Chace, not

like a Hound that hunts, but one that filles vp the

Crie. My Money is almost spent; I haue bin to night

exceedingly well Cudgell'd: And I thinke the issue

will bee, I shall haue so much experience for my paines;

And so, with no money at all, and a little more Wit, returne

againe to Venice

Iago. How poore are they that haue not Patience?

What wound did euer heale but by degrees?

Thou know'st we worke by Wit, and not by Witchcraft

And Wit depends on dilatory time:

Dos't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee,

And thou by that small hurt hath casheer'd Cassio:

Though other things grow faire against the Sun,

Yet Fruites that blossome first, will first be ripe:

Content thy selfe, a-while. Introth 'tis Morning;

Pleasure, and Action, make the houres seeme short.

Retire thee, go where thou art Billited:

Away, I say, thou shalt know more heereafter:

Nay get thee gone.

Exit Roderigo.

Two things are to be done:

My Wife must moue for Cassio to her Mistris:

Ile set her on my selfe, a while, to draw the Moor apart,

And bring him iumpe, when he may Cassio finde

Soliciting his wife: I, that's the way:

Dull not Deuice, by coldnesse, and delay.

Enter.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Cassio, Musitians, and Clowne.

Cassio. Masters, play heere, I wil content your paines,

Something that's briefe: and bid, goodmorrow General

Clo. Why Masters, haue your Instruments bin in Naples,

that they speake i'th' Nose thus?

Mus. How Sir? how?

Clo. Are these I pray you, winde Instruments?

Mus. I marry are they sir

Clo. Oh, thereby hangs a tale

Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir?

Clow. Marry sir, by many a winde Instrument that I

know. But Masters, heere's money for you: and the Generall

so likes your Musick, that he desires you for loues

sake to make no more noise with it

Mus. Well Sir, we will not

Clo. If you haue any Musicke that may not be heard,

too't againe. But (as they say) to heare Musicke, the Generall

do's not greatly care

Mus. We haue none such, sir

Clow. Then put vp your Pipes in your bagge, for Ile

away. Go, vanish into ayre, away.

Exit Mu.

Cassio. Dost thou heare me, mine honest Friend?

Clo. No, I heare not your honest Friend:

I heare you

Cassio. Prythee keepe vp thy Quillets, ther's a poore

peece of Gold for thee: if the Gentlewoman that attends

the Generall be stirring, tell her, there's one Cassio entreats

her a little fauour of Speech. Wilt thou do this?

Clo. She is stirring sir: if she will stirre hither, I shall

seeme to notifie vnto her.

Exit Clo.

Enter Iago.

In happy time, Iago

Iago. You haue not bin a-bed then?

Cassio. Why no: the day had broke before we parted.

I haue made bold (Iago) to send in to your wife:

My suite to her is, that she will to vertuous Desdemona

Procure me some accesse

Iago. Ile send her to you presently:

And Ile deuise a meane to draw the Moore

Out of the way, that your conuerse and businesse

May be more free.

Exit

Cassio. I humbly thanke you for't. I neuer knew

A Florentine more kinde, and honest.

Enter aemilia.

Aemil. Goodmorrow (good Lieutenant) I am sorrie

For your displeasure: but all will sure be well.

The Generall and his wife are talking of it,

And she speakes for you stoutly. The Moore replies,

That he you hurt is of great Fame in Cyprus,

And great Affinitie: and that in wholsome Wisedome

He might not but refuse you. But he protests he loues you

And needs no other Suitor, but his likings

To bring you in againe

Cassio. Yet I beseech you,

If you thinke fit, or that it may be done,

Giue me aduantage of some breefe Discourse

With Desdemon alone.

Aemil. Pray you come in:

I will bestow you where you shall haue time

To speake your bosome freely

Cassio. I am much bound to you.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Othello, Iago, and Gentlemen.

Othe. These Letters giue (Iago) to the Pylot,

And by him do my duties to the Senate:

That done, I will be walking on the Workes,

Repaire there to mee

Iago. Well, my good Lord, Ile doo't

Oth. This Fortification (Gentlemen) shall we see't?

Gent. Well waite vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and aemilia.

Des. Be thou assur'd (good Cassio) I will do

All my abilities in thy behalfe.

Aemil. Good Madam do:

I warrant it greeues my Husband,

As if the cause were his

Des. Oh that's an honest Fellow, Do not doubt Cassio

But I will haue my Lord, and you againe

As friendly as you were

Cassio. Bounteous Madam,

What euer shall become of Michael Cassio,

He's neuer any thing but your true Seruant

Des. I know't: I thanke you: you do loue my Lord:

You haue knowne him long, and be you well assur'd

He shall in strangenesse stand no farther off,

Then in a politique distance

Cassio. I, but Lady,

That policie may either last so long,

Or feede vpon such nice and waterish diet,

Or breede it selfe so out of Circumstances,

That I being absent, and my place supply'd,

My Generall will forget my Loue, and Seruice

Des. Do not doubt that: before aemilia here,

I giue thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee,

If I do vow a friendship, Ile performe it

To the last Article. My Lord shall neuer rest,

Ile watch him tame, and talke him out of patience;

His Bed shall seeme a Schoole, his Boord a Shrift,

Ile intermingle euery thing he do's

With Cassio's suite: Therefore be merry Cassio,

For thy Solicitor shall rather dye,

Then giue thy cause away.

Enter Othello, and Iago.

Aemil. Madam, heere comes my Lord

Cassio. Madam, Ile take my leaue

Des. Why stay, and heare me speake

Cassio. Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease,

Vnfit for mine owne purposes

Des. Well, do your discretion.

Exit Cassio.

Iago. Hah? I like not that

Othel. What dost thou say?

Iago. Nothing my Lord; or if- I know not what

Othel. Was not that Cassio parted from my wife?

Iago. Cassio my Lord? No sure, I cannot thinke it

That he would steale away so guilty-like,

Seeing your comming

Oth. I do beleeue 'twas he

Des. How now my Lord?

I haue bin talking with a Suitor heere,

A man that languishes in your displeasure

Oth. Who is't you meane?

Des. Why your Lieutenant Cassio: Good my Lord,

If I haue any grace, or power to moue you,

His present reconciliation take.

For if he be not one, that truly loues you,

That erres in Ignorance, and not in Cunning,

I haue no iudgement in an honest face.

I prythee call him backe

Oth. Went he hence now?

Des. I sooth; so humbled,

That he hath left part of his greefe with mee

To suffer with him. Good Loue, call him backe

Othel. Not now (sweet Desdemon) some other time

Des. But shall't be shortly?

Oth. The sooner (Sweet) for you

Des. Shall't be to night, at Supper?

Oth. No, not to night

Des. To morrow Dinner then?

Oth. I shall not dine at home:

I meete the Captaines at the Cittadell

Des. Why then to morrow night, on Tuesday morne,

On Tuesday noone, or night; on Wensday Morne.

I prythee name the time, but let it not

Exceed three dayes. Infaith hee's penitent:

And yet his Trespasse, in our common reason

(Saue that they say the warres must make example)

Out of her best, is not almost a fault

T' encurre a priuate checke. When shall he come?

Tell me Othello. I wonder in my Soule

What you would aske me, that I should deny,

Or stand so mam'ring on? What? Michael Cassio,

That came a woing with you? and so many a time

(When I haue spoke of you dispraisingly)

Hath tane your part, to haue so much to do

To bring him in? Trust me, I could do much

Oth. Prythee no more: Let him come when he will:

I will deny thee nothing

Des. Why, this is not a Boone:

'Tis as I should entreate you weare your Gloues,

Or feede on nourishing dishes, or keepe you warme,

Or sue to you, to do a peculiar profit

To your owne person. Nay, when I haue a suite

Wherein I meane to touch your Loue indeed,

It shall be full of poize, and difficult waight,

And fearefull to be granted

Oth. I will deny thee nothing.

Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,

To leaue me but a little to my selfe

Des. Shall I deny you? No: farewell my Lord

Oth. Farewell my Desdemona, Ile come to thee strait

Des. aemilia come; be as your Fancies teach you:

What ere you be, I am obedient.

Enter.

Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule

But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,

Chaos is come againe

Iago. My Noble Lord

Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?

Iago. Did Michael Cassio

When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?

Oth. He did, from first to last:

Why dost thou aske?

Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought,

No further harme

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?

Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir

Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft

Iago. Indeed?

Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?

Is he not honest?

Iago. Honest, my Lord?

Oth. Honest? I, Honest

Iago. My Lord, for ought I know

Oth. What do'st thou thinke?

Iago. Thinke, my Lord?

Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me;

As if there were some Monster in thy thought

Too hideous to be shewne. Thou dost mean somthing:

I heard thee say euen now, thou lik'st not that,

When Cassio left my wife. What didd'st not like?

And when I told thee, he was of my Counsaile,

Of my whole course of wooing; thou cried'st, Indeede?

And didd'st contract, and purse thy brow together,

As if thou then hadd'st shut vp in thy Braine

Some horrible Conceite. If thou do'st loue me,

Shew me thy thought

Iago. My Lord, you know I loue you

Oth. I thinke thou do'st:

And for I know thou'rt full of Loue, and Honestie,

And weigh'st thy words before thou giu'st them breath,

Therefore these stops of thine, fright me the more:

For such things in a false disloyall Knaue

Are trickes of Custome: but in a man that's iust,

They're close dilations, working from the heart,

That Passion cannot rule

Iago. For Michael Cassio,

I dare be sworne, I thinke that he is honest

Oth. I thinke so too

Iago. Men should be what they seeme,

Or those that be not, would they might seeme none

Oth. Certaine, men should be what they seeme

Iago. Why then I thinke Cassio's an honest man

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this?

I prythee speake to me, as to thy thinkings,

As thou dost ruminate, and giue thy worst of thoughts

The worst of words

Iago. Good my Lord pardon me,

Though I am bound to euery Acte of dutie,

I am not bound to that: All Slaues are free:

Vtter my Thoughts? Why say, they are vild, and falce?

As where's that Palace, whereinto foule things

Sometimes intrude not? Who ha's that breast so pure,

Wherein vncleanly Apprehensions

Keepe Leetes, and Law-dayes, and in Sessions sit

With meditations lawfull?

Oth. Thou do'st conspire against thy Friend (Iago)

If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st his eare

A stranger to thy Thoughts

Iago. I do beseech you,

Though I perchance am vicious in my guesse

(As I confesse it is my Natures plague

To spy into Abuses, and of my iealousie

Shapes faults that are not) that your wisedome

From one, that so imperfectly conceits,

Would take no notice, nor build your selfe a trouble

Out of his scattering, and vnsure obseruance:

It were not for your quiet, nor your good,

Nor for my Manhood, Honesty, and Wisedome,

To let you know my thoughts

Oth. What dost thou meane?

Iago. Good name in Man, & woman (deere my Lord)

Is the immediate Iewell of their Soules;

Who steales my purse, steales trash:

'Tis something, nothing;

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has bin slaue to thousands:

But he that filches from me my good Name,

Robs me of that, which not enriches him,

And makes me poore indeed

Oth. Ile know thy Thoughts

Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,

Nor shall not, whil'st 'tis in my custodie

Oth. Ha?

Iago. Oh, beware my Lord, of iealousie,

It is the greene-ey'd Monster, which doth mocke

The meate it feeds on. That Cuckold liues in blisse,

Who certaine of his Fate, loues not his wronger:

But oh, what damned minutes tels he ore,

Who dotes, yet doubts: Suspects, yet soundly loues?

Oth. O miserie

Iago. Poore, and Content, is rich, and rich enough,

But Riches finelesse, is as poore as Winter,

To him that euer feares he shall be poore:

Good Heauen, the Soules of all my Tribe defend

From Iealousie

Shakespeare's First Folio · 第 163 / 178 段