DESDEMONA.
Will you come to bed, my lord?
OTHELLO.
Have you pray’d tonight, Desdemona?
DESDEMONA.
Ay, my lord.
OTHELLO.
If you bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcil’d as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.
DESDEMONA.
Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?
