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OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. Oth. 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 sti
kept it, "Twould make her amiable, and subdue my fathe 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 bunt 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 it 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 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.
A LOVER'S COMPUTATION OF TIME. What I keep a week away? seven days and night Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning!
What hath he said?
her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's ful-
[Falls in a trance.
A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman!
Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; for she shall not live: No, my heart is turned to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. 0, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks.
Iago. Nay, that's not your way.
oth. Hang her; I do but say what she is: So de licate with her needle! An admirable musician! O,
she will sing the savageness out of a bear! Of so į high and plenteous wit and invention!
Iago. She's the worse for all this.
Oth. 0, a thousand, a thousand times:--And then, of so gentle a condition !+
Iago. Ay, too gentle.
Oih. Nay, that's certain: But yet the pity of it,
HIS CONFIRMED JEALOUSY.
What would you with her, sir?
* A proverbial saying.
Concerning this, sir,--0, well-painted passion;
Oth. Why, what art thou?
Your wife, my lord; your true
Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself;
Heaven doth truly know it. Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art false as
Des. Alas, the heavy day !-Why do you weep?
Had it pleas'd heaven
I 'T I 1 ' Is A
A fixed figure, for the time of scorn
Oth. 0, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles,
ne'er been born!
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly book,
By heaven, you do me wrong.
No, as I am a christian:
Oth. What, not a whore?
No, as I shall be saved
* Treasured up
I cry you mercy, then; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, That married with Othello.
DESDEMONA'S FIDELITY. O, good Iago, What shall I do to win my lord again? Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel:If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, Delighted them in any other form; Or that I do not yet, and ever did, And ever will—Though he do shake me off To beggarly divorcement,-love him dearly, Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much; And his unkindness may
defeat my life, But never taint my love.
asleep. A lighi burning.
[Takes off his sword.
* i: e. The light of life.