Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt
After new fancies: She, dying, gave it me;
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,
To give it her. I did so and take heed of 't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose or give't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.

Des.

Is it possible? Oth. 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it. A sybil, that had number'd in the world The sun to make two hundred compasses, In her prophetic fury sew'd the work:

The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk; And it was died in mummy, which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts.

Indeed! 'is't true?

Des.
Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
Des. Then 'would to heaven, that I had never
seen it.

Oth. Ha! wherefore?

Des. Why do you speak so startingly and rash?1 Oth. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the

way?

Des. Heaven bless us!

Oth.

Say you?

Des. It is not lost; But what an if it were!'

Oth. Ha!

Des. I say, it is not lost.

Oth.

Fetch't, let me see it.

Des. Why, so I can, sir; but I will not now:

This is a trick, to put me from my suit;

I pray, let Cassio be receiv'd again.

Oth. Fetch me that handkerchief: my mind misgives.

Des. Come, come;

You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

Oth. The handkerchief,

Des.

I pray, talk me of Cassio.

(1) Vehement, violent.

Oth. The handkerchief,

Des.

A man that, all his time,

Hath founded his good fortune on your love;

Shar'd dangers with you;

Oth.

Des. In sooth,

You are to blame.

Oth.

Emil.

The handkerchief,—

Away!

[Exit Othello.

Is not this man jealous?

Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this bandkerchief:
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you! Cassio, and my husband. Enter lago and Cassio.

Iago. There is no other way; 'tis she must do't; And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her. Des. How now? good Cassio? what's the news with you?

Cas. Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you, That, by your virtuous means, I may again Exist, and be a member of his love,

Whom I, with all the duty of my heart, Entirely honour; I would not be delay'd: my offence be of such mortal kind,

If

That neither service past, nor present sorrows,
Nor purpos'd merit in futurity,

Can ransom me into his love again,

But to know so must be my benefit;

So shall I clothe me in a forc'd content,
And shut myself up in some other course,

To fortune's alms.

Des.

Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio,

My advocation is not now in tune;

My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, Were he in favour, as in humour, alter'd.

(1) In countenance.

So help me, every spirit sanctified,

As I have spoken for you all my best;

And stood within the blank! of his displeasure,
For my free speech! You must a while be patient :
What I can do, I will; and more I will,

Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.
lago. Is my lord angry?
Emil.

He went hence but now,

And, certainly, in strange unquietness.

Iago. Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, When it hath blown his ranks into the air; And, like the devil, from his very arm

Puff'd his own brother;-And can he be angry? Something of moment, then I will go meet him; There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.

state.

Des. I pr'ythee, do so.-Something, sure, of Exit Iago. Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice,2 Made démonstrable here in Cyprus to him,Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such cases, Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so For let our finger ache, and it indues

Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense
Of pain: Nay, we must think, men are not gods;
Nor of them look for such observances

As fit the bridal.3-Beshrew me much, Emilia,
I was (unhandsome warrior as I am,)
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul;

But now I find, I had suborn'd the witness,
And he's indited falsely.

Emil. Pray heaven, it be state-matters, as you

think;

And no conception, nor no jealous toy,

Concerning you.

Des. Alas, the day! I never gave him cause.
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;

(1) Within the shot of his anger.

(2) Treason.

(3) The nuptial feast.

They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster,
Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Des. Heaven keep that monster from Othello's

mind!

Emil. Lady, amen.

Des. I will go seek him.-Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit, And seek to effect it to my uttermost. Cas. I humbly thank your ladyship.

[Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia. Enter Bianca,

Bian. Save you, friend Cassio!

Cas.

What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca ? I'faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. Bian. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What! keep a week away? seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!

Cas. Pardon me, Bianca ; I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd; But I shall, in a more continuate time,

Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, [Giving her Desdemona's handkerchief.

Take me this work out.2

Bian.

O, Cassio, whence came this?

This is some token from a newer friend.
To the felt absence now I feel a cause :
Is it come to this? Well, well.

Cas.
Woman, go to!
Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous now,
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance:

(1) Time less interrupted.

(2) The meaning is, not pick out the work, but copy this work in another handkerchief.

No, in good troth, Bianca.

Bian.

Why, whose is it? Cas. I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber. I like the work well; ere it be demanded, (As like enough it will,) I'd have it copied : Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time. Bian. Leave you! wherefore?

Cas. I do attend here on the general; And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman'd.

Bian.

Why, I pray you?

Cas. Not that I love you not.
Bian.
I pray you, bring me on the way a little;
And say, if I shall see you soon at night.

But that you do not love me.

Cas. 'Tis but a little way, that I can bring you,

For I attend here: but I'll see you soon.

Bian. 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanc'd. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-The same. Enter Othello and Iago.

Iago. Will you think so?

Oth.

Oth.

Think so, Iago?

What,

An unauthoriz'd kiss.

Iago. Or to be naked with her friend ábeă, An hour, or more, not meaning any harm? Oth. Naked abed, Iago, and not mean harm?

It is hypocrisy against the devil:

They that mean virtuously, and yet do so,

The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven.

Iago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip: But if I give my wife a handkerchief,

Oth. What then?