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lago. Give it me.
Emil. What will you do with it, that you have been so earnest r have me filch it?
Iago. Why, what's that to you?
Emil. If it be not for some purpose of import, Give it me again: Poor lady! she'll run mad, When she shall lack it.
Iago. Be not you known of't; I have use for it.
I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Ha ha! false to me?
Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that?
Oth. O now, for ever,
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Pride, pomp, and circumstance, of glorious war!
Iago. Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief,
If it be that,
Iago. If it be that, or any that was hers,
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
Iago. Pray, be content.
O, blood, Iago, blood!
Iago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, may change.
Oth. Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic sea,
Swallow them up.-Now, by yond' marble heaven,
I here engage my words.
To wrong'd Othello's service! let him command,
What bloody work soever.
I greet thy love,
Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous,
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.
SCENE IV.-The same.
Enter DESDEMONA, and EMILIA.
Des. Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia ?
Des. Believe me :-And, but my noble Moor
To put him to ill thinking.
Is he not jealous?
Des. Who, he? I think, the sun, where he was born, Drew all such humors from him.
Look, where he comes.
Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio
Oth. Well, my good lady;-[Aside.]-O, hardness to dissemble !— How do you, Desdemona ?
Des. Well, my good lord
Oth. Give me your hand: '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.
Des. I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Oth. That which I gave you.
Here, my lord.
I have it not about me.
That is a fault.
No, indeed, 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
Is it possible?
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,
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 way?
Des. It is not lost; But what and if it were?
Des. I say, it is not lost.
Fetch't, let me see it.
Des. Why, so I car, sir, but I will not now;
This is a trick, to put me from my suit;
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.
Is not this man jealous?
Des. I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief:
I am most unnappy in the loss of it.
Emil. 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man:
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.
My advocation is not now in tune;
Alas! thrice-gentle Cassio,
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,
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.
He went hence but now,
And, certainly, in strange unquietness.
Iago. Can he be angry?
Something of moment, then: I will go meet him;
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Des. I pr'ythee do so.-Something, sure, of state,- [Exit IAGO Either from Venice; or some unhatch'd practice,
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such cases,
Though great ones are their object.
Nay, we must think, men are not gods;
As fit the bridal.
Emil. Pray heaven, it be state matters, as you think, And no conception, nor no jealous toy,
Des. Alas, the day! I never gave him cause.
Emil. But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they are jealous.
Des. I will go seek Othello.-Cassio, walk hereabout:
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit,
[Exeunt DESDEMONA, and EMILIA.
The catastrophe of this noble domestic tragedy, is foreshadowed in our extracts. Othello, convinced of his wife's dishonor, is instigated by rage and jealousy to take her ife. But the innocence of Desdemona is proved by the confession of Emilia, and the discovery of Iago's treachery. Othello, overwhelmed with grief and remorse destroys bimself, and Iago is delivered a prisoner into the hands of justice.