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And will upon the instant put thee to't: Within these three days let me hear thee say, That Cassio's not alive.

Iago. My friend is dead; 'tis done, at your request:

But let her live.

Oth. Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her! Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, To furnish me with some swift means of death For the fair devil. Now art thou

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my lieute

[Exeunt.

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S CE NE IV.

The same.

Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown.

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 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 my own throat. Des. Can you enquire him out, and be edify'd by report?

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

Des. Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him, I have moved my lord in his behalf, and hope, all will be well.

Clown. To do this, is within the compafs of man's wit; and therefore I will attempt the doing

of it.

[Exit.

Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief,

Emilia ?

Emil. I know not, madam.

Des. Believe me, I had.rather have lost my

purse

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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.

Emil. Is he not jealous?

Des. Who, he? I think, the sun, where he was born,

Drew all such humours from him.

Emil. Look, where he comes.

Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio Be call'd to him.

lord ?

How is 't with you, my

Enter OTHELLO.

Oth. Well, my good lady: [Aside.] O, hardnefs 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;

For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

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.

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 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 fa

ther

Entirely to her love; but if she lost it,
Or made a gift of it, my fathers 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't or give't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match.

Des. Is it possible?

Oth.

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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 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

rash?

Oth. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the way?

Des. Heaven blefs us!

Oth. Say you?

Des. It is not lost; But what an if it were?
Oth. Hal

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:
misgives.

Des. Come, come;

my mind

You'll never meet a more sufficient man.

Oth. The handkerchief,

Vol. VIII.

A

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