Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iago. But if I giue my wife a Handkerchiefe.
Oth. Oth.
Oth. What then?
Iago. Iago.
Iago. Why then 'tis hers (my Lord) and being hers,
Iago. She may (I thinke) bestow't on any man.
Oth. She is Protectresse of her honor too:
Oth. May she giue that?
Oth. Iago.
Oth. the Moore of Venice.
Iago. Her honor is an Essence that's not seene,
Iago. They haue it very oft, that haue it not.
Iago. But for the Handkerchiefe.
Othe. Othe.
Othe. By heauen, I would most gladly haue forgot it:
Othe. Thou saidst (oh, it comes ore my memorie,
Othe. As doth the Rauen o're the infectious house:
Othe. Boading to all) he had my Handkerchiefe.