William Shakespeare: Othello, Moor of Venice

ACT III. 4. SCENE IV. Cyprus. Before the Castle. (continued)

EMILIA.
Look, where he comes.

DESDEMONA.
I will not leave him now till Cassio
Be call'd to him.

[Enter Othello.]

How is't with you, my lord?

OTHELLO.
Well, my good lady.--[Aside.] O, hardness to dissemble!--
How do you, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA.
Well, my good lord.

OTHELLO.
Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady.

DESDEMONA.
It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow.

OTHELLO.
This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart:--
Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
A sequester from liberty, fasting, and prayer,
Much castigation, exercise devout;
For here's a young and sweating devil here
That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand,
A frank one.

DESDEMONA.
You may, indeed, say so;
For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.

OTHELLO.
A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands;
But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.

DESDEMONA.
I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise.

OTHELLO.
What promise, chuck?

DESDEMONA.
I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you.

OTHELLO.
I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me;
Lend me thy handkerchief.

DESDEMONA.
Here, my lord.

OTHELLO.
That which I gave you.

DESDEMONA.
I have it not about me.

OTHELLO.
Not?

DESDEMONA.
No, faith, my lord.