To IAGO O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed on you ...

O bloody period!

You must forsake this room, and go with us:
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
If there be any cunning cruelty
That can torment him much and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till ...

Now here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
But that belike Iago in the interim
Came in and satisfied him.

Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
And here another: the one of them imports
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo.

What, not to pray?

This wretch hath part confess'd his villany:
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

O thou Othello, thou wert once so good,
Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave,
What shall be said to thee?

Wrench his sword from him.

Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.

Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

He, sir.

As you shall prove us, praise us.

The same indeed; a very valiant fellow.

We do not know.

Hark!

Two or three groan: it is a heavy night:
These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe
To come in to the cry without more help.

Hark!

Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship.

I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further.

I am sorry that I am deceived in him.

Is it his use?
Or did the letters work upon his blood,
And new-create this fault?

What, strike his wife!

Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain?

Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate
Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature
Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance,
Could neither graze nor pierce?

Who, I, my lord?

Truly, an obedient lady:
I do beseech your lordship, call her back.

My lord, this would not be believed in Venice,
Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much:
Make her amends; she weeps.

May be the letter moved him;
For, as I think, they do command him home,
Deputing Cassio in his government.

He did not call; he's busy in the paper.
Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio?

I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio?

The duke and senators of Venice greet you.

Save you, worthy general!