Pardon me, Bianca: I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d: But I shall, in a more continuate time, Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, Giving her Desdemona’s handkerchief. Take me this work out.

O Cassio, whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend: To the felt absence now I feel a cause: Is’t come to this? Well, well.

Go to, woman! Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, From whence you have them. You are jealous now That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: No, in good troth, Bianca.

I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber. I like the work well: ere it be demanded⁠— As like enough it will⁠—I’ld have it copied: Take it, and do’t; and leave me for this time.