Des. What is your pleasure?
Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face
Des. What horrible Fancie's this?
Othe. Some of your Function Mistris:
Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore:
Cough, or cry hem; if any body come:
Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.
Exit aemi.
Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import?
I vnderstand a Fury in your words
Othe. Why? What art thou?
Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife
Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare thou art honest
Des. Heauen doth truely know it
Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell
Des. To whom my Lord?
With whom? How am I false?
Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away
Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe?
Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord?
If happely you my Father do suspect,
An Instrument of this your calling backe,
Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him,
I haue lost him too