Lodovico
My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw’t: ’tis very much:
Make her amends; she weeps.
Othello
O devil, devil!
If that the earth could teem with woman’s tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!
Desdemona
I will not stay to offend you.
Going.
Lodovico
Truly, an obedient lady:
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.
Othello
Mistress!
Desdemona
My lord?
Othello
What would you with her, sir?