No, unpin me here. —
This Lodovico is a proper man.
EMILIA
A very handsome man.
DESDEMONA
He speaks well.
EMILIA
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.
DESDEMONA
[Sings.]
"The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow;
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;
Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; – "
Lay by these: —
[Sings.]
"Sing willow, willow, willow; – "
Pr'ythee, hie thee; he'll come anon: —
[Sings.]
"Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve, – "
Nay, that's not next. – Hark! who is't that knocks?
EMILIA
It's the wind.
DESDEMONA
[Sings.]
"I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
'If I court mo women, you'll couch with mo men.'"
So get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?
EMILIA
'Tis neither here nor there.
DESDEMONA
I have heard it said so. – O, these men, these men! —
Dost thou in conscience think, – tell me, Emilia, —
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?
EMILIA
There be some such, no question.
DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA
Why, would not you?
DESDEMONA
No, by this heavenly light!
EMILIA
Nor I neither by this heavenly light; I might do't as well i' the dark.
DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA
The world's a huge thing; it is a great price
For a small vice.
DESDEMONA
In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
EMILIA