OTHELLO.
Pray, chuck, come hither.
DESDEMONA.
What is your pleasure?
OTHELLO.
Let me see your eyes.
Look in my face.
DESDEMONA.
What horrible fancy’s this?
OTHELLO.
[To Emilia.] Some of your function, mistress,
Leave procreants alone, and shut the door.
Cough, or cry hem, if anybody come.
Your mystery, your mystery. Nay, dispatch.
[Exit Emilia.]
DESDEMONA.
Upon my knees, what doth your speech import?
I understand a fury in your words,
But not the words.
OTHELLO.
Why, what art thou?
DESDEMONA.
Your wife, my lord, your true and loyal wife.
OTHELLO.
Come, swear it, damn thyself,
Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves
Should fear to seize thee. Therefore be double-damn’d.
Swear thou art honest.