Des. Is't possible? Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it: A Sybill that had numbred in the world The Sun to course, two hundred compasses, In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke: The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke, And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull Conseru'd of Maidens hearts
Des. Indeed? Is't true? Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well
Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't? Oth. Ha? wherefore? Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash? Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way? Des. Blesse vs
Oth. Say you? Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were? Oth. How? Des. I say it is not lost
Oth. Fetcht, let me see't
Des. Why so I can: but I will not now: This is a tricke to put me from my suite, Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe, My minde mis-giues
Des. Come, come: you'l neuer meete a more sufficient man
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. A man that all his time Hath founded his good Fortunes on your loue; Shar'd dangers with you
Oth. The Handkerchiefe
Des. Insooth, you are too blame
Oth. Away.
Exit Othello.
Aemil. Is not this man iealious? Des. I neu'r saw this before. Sure, there's some wonder in this Handkerchiefe, I am most vnhappy in the losse of it. Aemil. 'Tis not a yeare or two shewes vs a man: They are all but Stomackes, and we all but Food, They eate vs hungerly, and when they are full They belch vs. Enter Iago, and Cassio.
Looke you, Cassio and my Husband
Iago. There is no other way: 'tis she must doo't: And loe the happinesse: go, and importune her
Des. How now (good Cassio) what's the newes with you? Cassio. Madam, my former suite. I do beseech you, That by your vertuous meanes, I may againe Exist, and be a member of his loue, Whom I, with all the Office of my heart Intirely honour, I would not be delayd. If my offence, be of such mortall kinde, That nor my Seruice past, nor present Sorrowes, Nor purpos'd merit in futurity, Can ransome me into his loue againe, But to know so, must be my benefit: So shall I cloath me in a forc'd content, And shut my selfe vp in some other course To Fortunes Almes
Des. Alas (thrice-gentle Cassio) My Aduocation is not now in Tune; My Lord, is not my Lord; nor should I know him, Were he in Fauour, as in Humour alter'd. So helpe me euery spirit sanctified, As I haue spoken for you all my best, And stood within the blanke of his displeasure For my free speech. You must awhile be patient: What I can do, I will: and more I will Then for my selfe, I dare. Let that suffice you
Iago. Is my Lord angry? Aemil. He went hence but now: And certainly in strange vnquietnesse
Iago. Can he be angry? I haue seen the Cannon When it hath blowne his Rankes into the Ayre, And like the Diuell from his very Arme Puff't his owne Brother: And is he angry? Something of moment then: I will go meet him, There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry.
Exit
Des. I prythee do so. Something sure of State, Either from Venice, or some vnhatch'd practise Made demonstrable heere in Cyprus, to him, Hath pudled his cleare Spirit: and in such cases, Mens Natures wrangle with inferiour things, Though great ones are their obiect. 'Tis euen so. For let our finger ake, and it endues Our other healthfull members, euen to a sense Of paine. Nay, we must thinke men are not Gods, Nor of them looke for such obseruancie As fits the Bridall. Beshrew me much, aemilia, I was (vnhandsome Warrior, as I am) Arraigning his vnkindnesse with my soule: But now I finde, I had suborn'd the Witnesse, And he's Indited falsely. Aemil. Pray heauen it bee State matters, as you thinke, and no Conception, Nor no Iealious Toy, concerning you