I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me

Othello
I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me.
Lend me thy handkerchief.
Desdemona
Here, my lord.
Othello
That which I gave you.
Desdemona
I have it not about me.
Othello
Not?
Desdemona
No, faith, my lord.
Othello
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 a 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.
Desdemona
Is ‘t possible?
Othello
‘Tis true. There's magic in the web of it.
A sybil that had numbered in the world
The sun to course two hundred compasses,
In her prophetic fury sewed the work.
The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk,
And it was dyed in mummy, which the skillful
Conserved of maidens' hearts.
Desdemona
I' faith, is ‘t true?
Othello
Most veritable. Therefore, look to ‘t well.
Desdemona
Then would to God that I had never seen ‘t!
Othello
Ha? Wherefore?
Desdemona
Why do you speak so startingly and rash?
Othello
Is ‘t lost? Is ‘t gone? Speak, is ‘t out o' th' way?
Desdemona
Heaven bless us!
Othello
Say you?
Desdemona
It is not lost, but what an if it were?
Othello
How?
Desdemona
I say it is not lost.
Othello
Fetch ‘t. Let me see ‘t!
Desdemona
Why, so I can. But I will not now.
This is a trick to put me from my suit.
Pray you, let Cassio be received again.
Othello
Fetch me the handkerchief!  Aside.  My mind misgives.
Desdemona
Come, come.
You'll never meet a more sufficient man.
Othello
The handkerchief!
Desdemona
I pray, talk me of Cassio.
Othello
The handkerchief!
Desdemona
A man that all his time
Hath founded his good fortunes on your love;
Shared dangers with you—
Othello
The handkerchief!
Desdemona
I' faith, you are to blame.
Othello
Zounds! Othello exits.
Emilia
Is not this man jealous?
Desdemona
I ne'er saw this before.
Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief!
I am most unhappy in the loss of it.
Emilia
‘Tis not a year or two shows us a man.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
They eat us hungerly, and when they are full
They belch us.