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Oth. Well, my good lady:-[Aside.] O, hardness
to dissemble! How do you, Desdemona? Des.
Well, my good lord. Oth. Give me your hand: This hand is moist, my
lady. Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart;
Des. You may, indeed, say so;
hands; But our new heraldry is—hands, not hearts. Des. I cannot speak of this. Come now your
promise. Oth. What promise, chuck? Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with
you. Oth. I have a salt and sullen rheum offends me; Lend me thy handkerchief. Des.
Here, my lord.
Oth. That which I gave you.
I have it not about me.
That is a fault: That handkerchief Did an Egyptian to my mother give; She was a charmer, and could almost read The thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept
it, 'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my
father Entirely to her love; but if she lost it, Or made a gift of it, my father's eye 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 magick in the web of it: A sibyl, that had number'd in the world The sun to make two hundred compasses?', In her prophetick fury sew'd the work: The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk; And it was dy'd in mummy, which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. Des.
Indeed! is't true?
Oth. Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
Fetch't, let me see it.
Oth. The handkerchief,
I pray, talk me of Cassio.
A man that, all his time,
Is not this man jealous ? Des. I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Emil. 73 '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 hus
Enter IAGO 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: If my offence be of such mortal kind, 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;
Iago. Is my lord angry?
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. Des. I pr'ythee, do 50.- Something, sure, of state,
[Erit Iago. Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice, 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 ach, and it indues Our other healthful members ey'n to that sense Of pain : Nay, we must think, men are not gods; Nor of them look for such observances