OTHELLO.
Hum!
DESDEMONA.
And yet I fear you, for you are fatal then
When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
Since guiltiness I know not, but yet I feel I fear.
OTHELLO.
Think on thy sins.
DESDEMONA.
They are loves I bear to you.
OTHELLO.
Ay, and for that thou diest.
DESDEMONA.
That death’s unnatural that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame.
These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me.
OTHELLO.
Peace, and be still!
DESDEMONA.
I will so. What’s the matter?
OTHELLO.
That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee,
Thou gav’st to Cassio.
DESDEMONA.
No, by my life and soul!
Send for the man and ask him.