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  • I’m glad I found thishandkerchief. It’s the first keepsake the Moorgave her. My stubborn husband has asked me tosteal it a hundred times.
  • Don’t snap at me. I’ve got something for you.
  • What’s going on? What are you doing herealone?
  • What?
  • You’ve got something for me? It’s acommon thing—
  • —to have a stupid wife.
  • What handkerchief? The one the Moor gave toDesdemona, which you asked me to steal somany times.
  • Oh, is that so? And what would you give me forthe handkerchief?
  • What handkerchief?
  • No, actually. She dropped it carelessly, and,seizing the opportunity, since I was here, I pickedit up. Look, here it is.
  • And what are you going to do with it? Why didyou want it so much that you begged me to stealit?
  • You stole it from her?
  • Good girl, give it to me.
  • If you don’t need it for some important reason,then give it back to me. Poor lady, she’ll go crazywhen she sees it’s missing.
  • Don’t admit to knowing anything about it. I needit. Now go, leave me.
  • What’s it to you?
  • The Moor’smind has already become infected with mypoisonous suggestions.
  • I’ll leave this handkerchief at Cassio’s house andlet Othello find it.
  • Ideas can be likepoisons. At first they hardly even taste bad, butonce they get into your blood they start burninglike hot lava.
  • To a jealous man, a meaninglesslittle thing like this looks like absolute proof.
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