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SCENE X

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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.

OTHELLO

That is a fault. That handkerchief

Did an Egyptian to my mother give;

She was a charmer, and could almost read

The thoughts of people: she told her, while she kept it,

‘Twould make her amiable and subdue my father

Entirely to her love; but if she lost it

Or made a gift of it, my father’s eye

Should hold her loathed, and his spirits should hunt

After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me;

And bid me, when my fate would have me wive,

To give it her. I did so: and take heed on’t;

Make it a darling like your precious eye;

To lose’t or give’t away were such perdition

As nothing else could match.

DESDEMONA

Is’t possible?

OTHELLO

‘Tis true: there’s magic in the web of it:

A sibyl, that had number’d in the world

The sun to course two hundred compasses,

In her prophetic fury sew’d the work;

The worms were hallow’d that did breed the silk;

And it was dy’d in mummy which the skillful

Conserv’d of maiden’s hearts.

DESDEMONA

Indeed! is’t true?

OTHELLO

Most veritable; therefore look to’t well.

DESDEMONA

Then would to God that I had never seen’t!

OTHELLO

Ha! wherefore?

DESDEMONA

Why do you speak so startingly and rash?

OTHELLO

Is’t lost? is’t gone? speak, is it out of the way?

DESDEMONA

Heaven bless us!

OTHELLO

Say you?

DESDEMONA

It is not lost; but what an if it were?

OTHELLO

How!

DESDEMONA

I say, it is not lost.

OTHELLO

Fetch’t, let me see’t.

DESDEMONA

Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now.

This is a trick to put me from my suit:

Pray you, let Cassio be receiv’d again.

OTHELLO

Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives.

DESDEMONA

Come, come;

You’ll never meet a more sufficient man.

OTHELLO

The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA

I pray, talk me of Cassio.

OTHELLO

The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA

A man that all his time

Hath founded his good fortunes on your love,

Shar’d dangers with you,—

OTHELLO

The handkerchief!

DESDEMONA

In sooth, you are to blame.

OTHELLO

Away!

[Exit.]

Sämtliche Werke von Shakespeare in einem Band: Zweisprachige Ausgabe (Deutsch-Englisch)

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