honour too: May she give that? Her honour is an essence that's not seen; They have it very oft that have it not: But, for the handkerchief,-- By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory, As doth the raven o'er the infected house, Boding to all--he had my handkerchief. Ay, what of that? That's not so good now. What, If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad, Who having, by their own importunate suit, Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose But they must blab-- Hath he said any thing? He hath, my lord; but be you well assured, No more than he'll unswear. What hath he said? 'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did. What? what? Lie-- With her? With her, on her; what you will. Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome. --Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips. --Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!-- Work on, My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught; And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord! My lord, I say! Othello! How now, Cassio! What's the matter? My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy: This is his second fit; he had one yesterday. Rub him about the temples. No, forbear; The lethargy must have his quiet course: If not, he foams at mouth and by and by Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs: Do you withdraw yourself a little while, He will recover straight: when he is gone, I would on great occasion speak with you. How is it, general? have you not hurt your head? Dost thou mock me? I mock you! no, by heaven. Would you would bear your fortune like a man! A horned man's a monster and a beast. There's many a beast then in a populous city, And many a civil monster. Did he confess it? Good sir, be a man; Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked May draw with you: there's