I think you are. And I know you’re full of love and honesty, and you think carefully before you speak. That’s why these pauses of yours frighten me. If some fool were withholding things from me, I wouldn’t think twice about it. If some lying, cheating villain acted like that, it would just be a trick. But when an honest man acts like that, you know he’s wrestling with bad thoughts and can’t help it.
(picking up the handkerchief) I’m glad I found this handkerchief. It’s the first keepsake the Moor gave her. My stubborn husband has asked me to steal it a hundred times. But she loves it so much (since Othello told her she should always keep it with her) that she always keeps it near her to kiss it and talk to it. I’ll copy the embroidery pattern and then give it to Iago. Heaven knows what he’s going to do with it. I only try to satisfy his whims.
That’s 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 gift of it, my father’s eye Should hold her loathèd and his spirits should hunt After new fancies. She, dying, gave it me And bid me, when my fate would have me wived, 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.