DESDEMONA. Why do you speak so startingly and rash? OTHELLO. Is’t lost? is’t gone? speak, is it out of the way? DESDEMONA. Heaven bless us! OTHELLO. Say you? DESDEMONA. It is not lost, but what and if it were? OTHELLO. How? DESDEMONA. I say it is not lost. OTHELLO. Fetch’t, let me see ’t. DESDEMONA. 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 receiv’d again. OTHELLO. Fetch me the handkerchief! My mind misgives. DESDEMONA. Come, come. You’ll never meet a more sufficient man. OTHELLO. The handkerchief! DESDEMONA. I pray, talk me of Cassio. OTHELLO. The handkerchief! DESDEMONA. A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shar’d dangers with you,— OTHELLO. The handkerchief! DESDEMONA. In sooth, you are to blame. OTHELLO. Away! [Exit.] EMILIA. Is not this man jealous?
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