Something sure of state, Either from Venice, or some unhatch’d practice Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, Hath puddled his clear spirit, and in such cases Men’s natures wrangle with inferior things, Though great ones are their object. ’Tis even so. For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful members even to that sense Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, I was (unhandsome warrior as I am) Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; But now I find I had suborn’d the witness, And he’s indicted falsely. 

EMILIA. Pray heaven it be state matters, as you think, And no conception nor no jealous toy Concerning you. 

DESDEMONA. Alas the day, I never gave him cause! 

EMILIA. But jealous souls will not be answer’d so; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: ’tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself. 

DESDEMONA. Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind! 

EMILIA. Lady, amen. 

DESDEMONA. I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout: If I do find him fit, I’ll move your suit, And seek to effect it to my uttermost. 

CASSIO. I humbly thank your ladyship. 

 [Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.]

Desdemona

Emilia

 Enter Bianca.

Bianca

BIANCA. Save you, friend Cassio! 

CASSIO. What make you from home? How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? I’ faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. 

BIANCA. And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights? Eight score eight hours, and lovers’ absent hours, More tedious than the dial eight score times? O weary reckoning! 

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