Des.
Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lyes?

Clown.

I dare not say, he lies any where.

Des.
Why, man?

Clown.

He's a soldier; and for me to say, a soldier lies, 'tis stabbing.

Des.

Go to; where lodges he?

Clown.

To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie.

Des.

Can any thing be made of this?

Clown.

I know not where he lodges; and for me to devise a lodging, and say, he lyes here, or he lyes there, were to lie in mine own throat.

Des.

Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report?

Clown.

I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and bid them answer.(39) ^note

Des.

Seek him, bid him come hither; tell him, I have mov'd my lord on his behalf, and hope, all will be well.

Clown.

To do this is within the compass of man's wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing of it.

Des.
Where should I lose that handkerchief, Æmilia?

Æmil.
I know not, Madam.

Des.
Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
Full of Cruzadoes. And but my noble Moor
Is true of mind, and made of no such baseness
As jealous creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill thinking.

Æmil.
Is he not jealous?

Des.
Who, he? I think, the Sun, where he was born,
Drew all such humours from him.

Æmil.
Look, where he comes.

Des.
I will not leave him now, till Cassio be
Call'd to him. How is it with you, my lord?

Enter Othello.

Oth.
Well, my good lady. Oh, hardness to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?

Des.
Well, my Lord.

Oth.
Give me your hand; this hand is moist, my Lady.

Des.
It yet hath 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;
For 'twas that hand, that gave away my heart.

Oth.
A liberal hand. The hearts, of old, gave hands;(40) ^note

But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

Des.
I cannot speak of this; come, now your promise.

Oth.
What promise, chuck?

Des.
I've sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

Oth.
I have a salt and sorry Rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.

Des.
Here, my Lord.

Oth.
That, which I gave you.

Des.
I have it not about me.

Oth.
Not?—

Des.
No, indeed, my Lord.

Oth.
That's a fault. That handkerchief(41) ^note

And bid me, when my fate would have me wiv'd,
To give it her. I did so; and take heed on't;—
Make it a darling, like your precious eye;
To lose't, or giv't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.

Des.
Is't possible?

Oth.
'Tis true; there's magick in the web of it;
A Sybill, that had numbred in the world
The Sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetick fury sow'd the Work:
The worms were hallowed, that did breed the silk;
And it was dy'd in Mummey, which the skillful
Conserv'd of Maidens hearts.

Des.
Indeed! is't true!

Oth.
Most veritable, therefore look to't well.

Des.
Then would to heav'n, that I had never seen't!

Oth.
Ha? wherefore?

Des.
Why do you speak so startingly, and rash?

Oth.
Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out o'th' way?

Des.
Bless us!—

Oth.
Say you?

Des.
It is not lost; but what, and if it were?

Oth.
Ha!

Des.
I say, it is not lost.

Oth.
Fetch't, let me see't.

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

This is a trick to put me from my suit,
Pray you, let Cassio be receiv'd again.

Oth.
Fetch me the handkerchief—my mind misgives—

Des.
Come, you'll ne'er meet a more sufficient man.

Oth.
The handkerchief—

Des.
A man, that, all his time,
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love;
Shar'd dangers with you.

Oth.
The handkerchief—

Des.
Insooth, you are to blame.

Oth.
Away!— [Exit Othello. Manent Desdemona and Æmilia.

Æmil.
Is not this man jealous?

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

Æmil.
'Tis not a year, or two, shews us a man:
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and, when they're full,
They belch us. Look you! Cassio, and my husband. 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 gain
Exist, and be a member of his love;
Whom I, with all the office of my heart,
Intirely honour. I would not be delay'd;
If my offence be of such mortal kind,
That not my 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 cloath me in a forc'd content,

And shut myself up in some other course,(42) ^note

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.
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.

Iago.
Is my lord angry?

Æmil.
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
Puft 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. [Exit. Manent Desdemona, Æmilia, and Cassio.

Des.
I pr'ythee, do so.—Something, sure, of State,
Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practice,

Made here demonstrable in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and, in such cases,
Mens natures wrangle with inferior things,
Tho' great ones are their object. 'Tis ev'n so.
For let our finger ake, and it endues
Our other healthful members with a sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think, Men are not Gods;
Nor of them look for such observance always,
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Æmilia,
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.

Æmil.
Pray heav'n, it be
State-matter, as you think; and no conception,
Nor jealous toy concerning you.

Des.
Alas-the-day, I never gave him cause.

Æmil.
But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
They are not ever jealous for a cause;
But jealous, for they're jealous. It's a monster
Begot upon it self, born on it self.

Des.
Heav'n keep that monster from Othello's mind!

Æmil.
Lady, amen.

Des.
I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout;
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
And seek t' effect it to my uttermost.

Cas.
I humbly thank your Ladyship. [Ex. Desdem. and Æmil. at one door; Cassio, at the other.

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