Lod.
'Beseech ^note you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

Oth.
O, pardon me; 'twill ^note do me good to walk.

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

Des.
Your honour is most welcome.

Oth.
Will you walk, sir?—
O,—Desdemona,— [stepping back.

Des.

My lord?

Oth.

Get you to bed o' the ^note instant, I will be return'd forthwith: dismiss your ^note attendant there; look, it be done.

Des.

I will, my lord.

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

Des.
He says, he will return incontinent:
He hath ^note commanded me to go to bed,
And bad ^note me to dismiss you.

Emi.
Dismiss me!

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

Emi.
I would, you had never seen him.

Des.
So would not I; my love doth so approve him,
That even his stubbornness, his checks, and frowns ^note,—
Pr'ythee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them ^note. [beginning to undress.

Emi.
I have lay'd those ^note sheets you bad me on the bed.

Des.
All's one:—Good father, ^note how foolish are our minds!—
If I do die before thee ^note, pr'ythee, shrowd me
In one of those ^note same sheets.

Emi.
Come, come, you talk.

Des.
My mother had a maid14Q1518, call'd—Barbara ^note;
She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd bad ^note,
And did forsake her: she had a ^note song of—willow,
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
And she dy'd singing it: That song, to-night,
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, ^note
Not to ^note go hang my head all o' one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara ^note. Pr'ythee, dispatch.

Emi.
Shall I fetch ^note your night-gown?

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

Emi.
A very handsome man.

Des.
And he speaks well.

Emi.
I know a lady in Venice, would have walk'd
Bare-foot ^note to Palestine for a ^note touch of his nether lip. [going on with her undressing.

Des.

The poor soul sat sighing ^note by a sycamore tree,
  sing all a green willow; [singing.

her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
  sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans;
  sing willow, willow, willow;
the salt ^note tears fell from her, and soften'd ^note the stones,—
Lay by &dagger2; these.— giving her her Jewels.

  sing willow, willow, willow;—
Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon.—

sing all a green willow must be my garlánd.

2.
Let no body blame him, his scorn I approve,—
Nay, that's not next.—Hark! hark! who is't that knocks?

Emi.
It's ^note the wind.

Des.

2
I call'd my love, false love; But what said he then? ^note
  sing willow, willow, willow;
If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men.
So, get ^note thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Does ^note that bode weeping?

Emi.
'Tis neither here nor there.

Des.
I have heard it said so.—O, these men, these men!— ^note
Dost thou in conscience think,—tell me, Emilia,—
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind ^note?

Emi.
There be some such, no question.

Des.
Would'st thou do such a thing for ^note all the world?

Emi.
Why, would not you?

Des.
No, by this heavenly light!

Emi.
No, nor I neither, by this heavenly light;
I might do't as well i'the ^note dark.

Des.
Wouldst thou do such a deed for ^note all the world?

Emi.
The world is ^note a huge thing: 'Tis a great price

For a small vice.

Des.
In troth ^note, I think thou wouldst not.

Emi.

In troth ^note, I think I should; and undo't, when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint-ring; nor for ^note measures of lawn; nor for gowns, petticoats ^note, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition ^note: but, for the ^note whole world,—Why, who would not make her husband a cuckold, to make him a monarch? I should venture purgatory for't ^note.

Des.

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

Emi.

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

Des.
I do not think, there is any such woman.

Emi.
Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage ^note, as
Would store the world they play'd for.
But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults, ^note
If wives do fall: Say, that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps;
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite;
Why, we have galls; and, though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know,
Their wives have sense like them; they see, and smell,
And have their palates both for sweet and sour
As husbands have. What is it that they do,
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think, it is; And doth affection breed it?
I think, it doth; Is't frailty, that thus errs?
It is so too: And have not we affections?

Desires for sport? and frailty, as men have?
Then, let them use us well: else, let them know,
The ills we do, their ills instruct us to. ^note

Des.
Good night, good night: Heaven me ^note such usage ^note send,
Not to pick bad from bad; but, by, bad, mend! [Exeunt.

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