APPENDIX 
229 
Let nobody blame him ; his scorn I approve,— 
Nay, that’s not next.—Hark ! who is’t that knocks ? 
Emil. It’s the wind. 
Des. [ Singing ] 
I call’d my love false love ; but what said he then ? 
Sing willow, willow, willow : 
If I court moe women, you’ll couch with moe men. 
IV. iii. 41. 
When I have pluck’d thy rose, 
I cannot give it vital growth again, 
It must needs wither: I’ll smell it on the tree. 
[Kissing hev. 
Ah, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword ! One more, one more. 
V. ii. 13. 
Emil. What did thy song bode, lady ? 
Hark, canst thou hear me ? I will play the swan, 
And die in music : [Singing] Willow, willow, willow.— 
Moor, she was chaste ; she lov’d thee, cruel Moor ; 
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; 
So speaking as I think, I die, I die. 
V. ii. 247. 
Do you go back dismay’d ? ’tis a lost fear ; 
Man but a rush against Othello’s breast, 
And he retires. Where should Othello go ? 
V. ii. 269. 
Of one whose subdu’d eyes, 
Albeit unused to the melting mood, 
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
Their medicinal gum. 
V. ii. 348. 
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
Chav. O excellent! I love long life better than figs. 
I. ii. 32. 
And all the gods go with you ! upon your sword 
Sit laurel victory ! and smooth success 
Be strew’d before your feet! 
I. iii. 99. 
Cleo. Give me to drink mandragora. 
Chav. Why, madam? 
Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time 
My Antony is away. 
I. v. 4. 
