At nine i’ th’ morning here we’ll meet again
At nine i' th' morning here we'll meet again.
Othello, leave some officer behind
And he shall our commission bring to you,
With such things else of quality and respect
As doth import you.
So please your Grace, my ancient.
A man he is of honesty and trust.
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good Grace shall think
To be sent after me.
Let it be so.
Good night to everyone. To Brabantio. And, noble signior,
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.
Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see.
She has deceived her father, and may thee. He exits.
My life upon her faith!