If it be not for some purpose of import, Give’t me again: poor lady, she’ll run mad When she shall lack it.

Be not acknown on ’t; I have use for it. Go, leave me. Exit Emilia. I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it. Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ: this may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison: Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons. Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood. Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so: Look, where he comes!

Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou owedst yesterday.

Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack: I swear ’tis better to be much abused Than but to know’t a little.

What sense had I of her stol’n hours of lust? I saw’t not, thought it not, it harm’d not me: I slept the next night well, was free and merry; I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips: He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stol’n, Let him not know’t, and he’s not robb’d at all.

I had been happy, if the general camp, Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove’s dead clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone!