Enter OTHELLO. 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;Hot, hot, and moist: This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here's a young and sweating devil here, That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, A frank one. Des. You may, indeed, say so; Oth. A liberal hand: The hearts, of old, gave 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. 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 And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, 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"1, In her prophetick fury sew'd the work: The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk; And it was dy'd in mummy72, which the skilful Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. Des. Indeed! is't true? 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? Oth. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the 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 mis gives. Des. Come, come; You'll never meet a more sufficient man. Oth. The handkerchief,— Des. Oth. The handkerchief,— Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. A man that, all his time, Hath founded his good fortune on your love; Shar'd dangers with you;— Emil. Is not this man jealous? Des. I ne'er saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: Emil. 73 "Tis not a year or two shows us a man: Enter IAGO and CASSIO. Iago. There is no other way; 'tis she must do't; And, lo, the happiness! go, and impórtune 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, Entirely honour; I would not be delay'd: 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, Des. Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio, My advocation is not now in tune; My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best; And stood within the blank of his displeasure, Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you. Iago. 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? state, Des. I pr'ythee, do so.-Something, sure, of Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense |