You may, indeed, say so;
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.
OTHELLO
A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
DESDEMONA
I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.
OTHELLO
What promise, chuck?
DESDEMONA
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.
OTHELLO
I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.
DESDEMONA
Here, my lord.
OTHELLO
That which I gave you.
DESDEMONA
I have it not about me.
OTHELLO
Not?
DESDEMONA
No, faith, my lord.
OTHELLO
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't or give't away were such perdition
As nothing else could match.
DESDEMONA
Is't possible?
OTHELLO
'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it:
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sew'd the work;
The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk;
And it was dy'd in mummy which the skillful
Conserv'd of maiden's hearts.
DESDEMONA
Indeed! is't true?
OTHELLO
Most veritable; therefore look to't well.
DESDEMONA
Then would to God that I had never seen't!
OTHELLO
Ha! wherefore?
DESDEMONA
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
OTHELLO
Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out of the way?