DESDEMONA.
I will, my lord.
[Exeunt Othello, Lodovico and Attendants.]
EMILIA.
How goes it now? He looks gentler than he did.
DESDEMONA.
He says he will return incontinent,
He hath commanded me to go to bed,
And bade me to dismiss you.
EMILIA.
Dismiss me?
DESDEMONA.
It was his bidding. Therefore, good Emilia,
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu.
We must not now displease him.
EMILIA.
I would you had never seen him!
DESDEMONA.
So would not I. My love doth so approve him,
That even his stubbornness, his checks, his frowns,—
Prithee, unpin me,—have grace and favour in them.
EMILIA.
I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed.
DESDEMONA.
All’s one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
If I do die before thee, prithee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.