Othello

Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again;
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour
It will be well.

OTHELLO.
Your napkin is too little;

[He puts the handkerchief from him, and she drops it.]

Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you.

DESDEMONA.
I am very sorry that you are not well.

[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.]

EMILIA.
I am glad I have found this napkin;
This was her first remembrance from the Moor.
My wayward husband hath a hundred times
Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token,--
For he conjur'd her she should ever keep it,--
That she reserves it evermore about her
To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out,
And give't Iago:
What he will do with it heaven knows, not I;
I nothing but to please his fantasy.

[Re-enter Iago.]

IAGO.
How now! what do you here alone?

EMILIA.
Do not you chide; I have a thing for you.

IAGO.
A thing for me!--it is a common thing.

EMILIA.
Ha!

IAGO.
To have a foolish wife.

EMILIA.
O, is that all? What will you give me now
For that same handkerchief?

IAGO.
What handkerchief?

EMILIA.
What handkerchief!
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona;
That which so often you did bid me steal.

IAGO.
Hast stol'n it from her?

EMILIA.
No, faith; she let it drop by negligence,
And, to the advantage, I being here, took't up.
Look, here it is.

IAGO.
A good wench; give it me.

EMILIA.
What will you do with't, that you have been so earnest
To have me filch it?

IAGO.
[Snatching it.] Why, what's that to you?

EMILIA.
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad
When she shall lack it.

IAGO.
Be not acknown on't; I have use for it.
Go, leave me.

[Exit Emilia.]

I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin,
And let him find it. Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ: this may do something.
The Moor already changes with my poison:
Dangerous conceits are in their natures poisons,
Which at the first are scarce found to distaste,
But, with a little act upon the blood,
Burn like the mines of sulphur.--I did say so:--
Look, where he comes!
Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.