Des. Why man?
Clo. He's a Soldier, and for me to say a Souldier lyes,
'tis stabbing
Des. Go too: where lodges he?
Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tel you where
I lye
Des. Can any thing be made of this?
Clo. I know not where he lodges, and for mee to deuise
a lodging, and say he lies heere, or he lies there, were
to lye in mine owne throat
Des. Can you enquire him out? and be edified by report?
Clo. I will Catechize the world for him, that is, make
Questions, and by them answer
Des. Seeke him, bidde him come hither: tell him, I haue moou'd my Lord on his behalfe, and hope all will be well
Clo. To do this, is within the compasse of mans Wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.
Exit Clo.
Des. Where should I loose the Handkerchiefe, aemilia?
Aemil. I know not Madam
Des. Beleeue me, I had rather haue lost my purse
Full of Cruzadoes. And but my Noble Moore
Is true of minde, and made of no such basenesse,
As iealious Creatures are, it were enough
To put him to ill-thinking.
Aemil. Is he not iealious?
Des. Who, he? I thinke the Sun where he was borne,
Drew all such humors from him.
Aemil. Looke where he comes.
Enter Othello.
Des. I will not leaue him now, till Cassio be
Call'd to him. How is't with you, my Lord?
Oth. Well my good Lady. Oh hardnes to dissemble!
How do you, Desdemona?
Des. Well, my good Lord