Othello (Quarto 1, 1622)
Peer Reviewed
The Moore of Venice.
57
Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it,
¶Or made a gift of it: my fathers eye
¶After new fancies: she dying, gaue it me,
¶And bid me when my fate would haue me wiue,
¶To giue it her; I did so, and take heede on't,
¶Make it a darling, like your pretious eye,
¶As nothing else could match.
¶Oth. Tis true, there's magicke in the web of it,
¶A Sybell that had numbred in the world,
¶In her prophetique fury, sowed the worke;
¶The wormes were hallowed that did breed the silke,
¶And it was died in Mummy, with the skilfull
¶Conserues of maidens hearts.
¶Oth. Ha, wherefore?
¶Oth. Say you?
¶Oth. Ha.
¶This is a tricke, to put me from my suite,
¶I pray let Cassio, be receiu'd againe.
¶Oth. The handkercher.
¶Oth. The handkercher.
I
Des.
