[Kneels.

In the due reverence of a sacred vow
I here engage my words.

Do not rise yet.

Iago.

Witness, you ever-burning lights above,
You elements that clip us round about,-

Witness that here Iago doth give up

The execution of his wit, hands, heart,

To wronged Othello's service! Let him command,

And to obey shall be in me remorse,

What bloody work soever.

Oth.

I greet thy love,

[Rises.

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; 't is done at your request.
But let her live.

Oth.

Damn her!-lewd minx! damn her! 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 my lieutenant.

[Rises.

Iago.

I am your own for ever.

CURTAIN.

Act Fourth.

Scene First.-THE SAME AS IN ACTS SECOND AND THIRD.

Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse
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.

Is he not jealous ?

Emil.

Des.

Who, he? I think the sun where he was born
Drew all such humours from him.

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.

'T is a good hand, a frank one.

You may, indeed, say so;

Des.

For 't was 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 father Entirely to her love; but if she lost it,

Or made a gift of it, my father's eye

Should hold her loathed, 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 or give 't away were such perdition
As nothing else could match.

Is 't possible ?

Des.

Oth.

'T is true: there 's magic in the web of it: A sibyl, that had numbered in the world The sun to course two hundred compasses,

In her prophetic fury sewed the work;

The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk;
And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful

Conserved of maidens' hearts.

Des.

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 o' the way ?

Des.

Heaven bless us!

Oth.

Say you ?

Des.

It is not lost; but what an if it were ?

Oth.

How!

Des.

I say, it is not lost.

Oth.

Fetch 't, let me see 't.

Des.

Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.

This is a trick to put me from my suit:

Pray you, let Cassio be received again.

You 'll never meet a more sufficient man.

The handkerchief!

Oth.