Enter 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!
CASSIO.
Pardon me, Bianca.
I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d,
But I shall in a more continuate time
Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,
[Giving her Desdemona’s handkerchief.]
Take me this work out.
BIANCA.
O Cassio, whence came this?
This is some token from a newer friend.
To the felt absence now I feel a cause.
Is’t come to this? Well, well.
CASSIO.
Go to, woman!
Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth,
From whence you have them. You are jealous now
That this is from some mistress, some remembrance.
No, in good troth, Bianca.
BIANCA.
Why, whose is it?