Des. I haue it not about me
Oth. Not?
Des. No indeed, my Lord
Oth. That's a fault: That Handkerchiefe
Did an aegyptian to my Mother giue:
She was a Charmer, and could almost read
The thoughts of people. She told her, while she kept it,
'T would make her Amiable, and subdue my Father
Intirely to her loue: But if she lost it,
Or made a Guift of it, my Fathers eye
Should hold her loathed, and his Spirits should hunt
After new Fancies. She dying, gaue it me,
And bid me (when my Fate would haue me Wiu'd)
To giue it her. I did so; and take heede on't,
Make it a Darling, like your precious eye:
To loose't, or giue't away, were such perdition,
As nothing else could match
Des. Is't possible?
Oth. 'Tis true: There's Magicke in the web of it:
A Sybill that had numbred in the world
The Sun to course, two hundred compasses,
In her Prophetticke furie sow'd the Worke:
The Wormes were hallowed, that did breede the Silke,
And it was dyde in Mummey, which the Skilfull
Conseru'd of Maidens hearts
Des. Indeed? Is't true?
Oth. Most veritable, therefore looke too't well
Des. Then would to Heauen, that I had neuer seene't?
Oth. Ha? wherefore?
Des. Why do you speake so startingly, and rash?
Oth. Is't lost? Is't gon? Speak, is't out o'th' way?
Des. Blesse vs
Oth. Say you?
Des. It is not lost: but what and if it were?
Oth. How?
Des. I say it is not lost
Oth. Fetcht, let me see't
Des. Why so I can: but I will not now:
This is a tricke to put me from my suite,
Pray you let Cassio be receiu'd againe
Oth. Fetch me the Handkerchiefe,
My minde mis-giues