Des.
Do you know, sirrah, where lieutenant Cassio lies?

Clown.
I dare not say, he lies any where.

Des.

Why, man?

Clown.

He is a soldier; and for me to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.

Des.

Go to; Where lodges he?

Clown.

To tell you^{2 note} 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 lies here, or he lies there, were to lie in mine own throat.

Des.

Can you enquire him out? and be edify'd by report?

^{3 note}Clown.

I will catechize the world for him; that is, make questions, and make them answer.

Des.

Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have mov'd my lord in 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 ^{4 note}

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:—[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 hath felt no age, nor known no sorrow.

Oth.
This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart;—
Hot, hot, and moist:^{5 note} 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: ^{6 note}

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 ^{7 note}

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 is a fault: That handkerchief
Did an Ægyptian 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
Intirely 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 on't,
Make it a darling like your precious eye;
To lose't, 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 sibyl^{8 note}

, that had ^{9 note}

The sun to course^{1 note} two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work:
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk;
^{2 note}

Des.
Indeed! is it true?

Oth.
Most veritable; therefore look to it well.

Des.
Then 'would to heaven, that I had never seen it!

Oth.
Ha! wherefore?

Des.
Why do you speak so startingly and ^{4 note}rash?

Oth.
Is it lost? is it 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 it, 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^{5 note}.

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.

Æmil.
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.

Æmil.
^{6 note}

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 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 ^{7 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 ^{1 note}in favour, as in humour, alter'd.
So help me every spirit sanctified,
As I have spoken for you all my best;
And stood ^{2 note}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
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. [Exit.

Des.
I pr'ythee, do so.—Something, sure, of state,—
Either from Venice; or ^{3 note}some unhatch'd practice,
Made demonstrable 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; ^{4 note}

for let our finger ach,
And it endues our other healthful members
Even to that sense of pain: Nay, we must think,
Men are not gods;
Nor of them look for such observancy
As fits the bridal.—Beshrew me much, Æmilia,
I was (^{5 note}

Æmil.
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.

Æmil.
But jealous souls will not be answer'd so;
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!

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 to effect it to my uttermost.

Cas.
I humbly thank your ladyship. [Exeunt Desdemona, and Æmilia. Enter Bianca.

Bian.
Save you, friend Cassio!

Cas.
What make you from home?
How is it with you, my most fair Bianca?
Indeed, 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?
Eightscore eight hours? and lovers' absent hours,
More tedious than the dial eightscore times?
O weary reckoning!

Cas.
Pardon me, Bianca;
I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd:
But I shall, in a ^{6 note}

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.
Go to, woman!
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:
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 copy'd:
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^{8 note}?

Cas.
Not, that I love you not.

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

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; ^{9 note}I must be circumstanc'd. [Exeunt.

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