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Section 364
Passage 1 of 1 · section 364 of 1288
1Othe.
2All's well, Sweeting:
3Come away to bed. Sir for your hurts,
4My selfe will be your Surgeon. Lead him off:
5Iago, looke with care about the Towne,
6And silence those whom this vil'd brawle distracted.
7Come Desdemona, 'tis the Soldiers life,
8To haue their Balmy slumbers wak'd with strife.