The heavens forbid But that our loves and comforts should increase, Even as our days do grow!

Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak enough of this content; It stops me here; it is too much of joy: And this, and this, the greatest discords be Kissing her. That e’er our hearts shall make!

Aside. O, you are well tuned now! But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music, As honest as I am.

Come, let us to the castle. News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown’d. How does my old acquaintance of this isle? Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, I prattle out of fashion, and I dote In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, Go to the bay and disembark my coffers: Bring thou the master to the citadel; He is a good one, and his worthiness Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, Once more, well met at Cyprus. Exeunt Othello , Desdemona , and Attendants.

That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit: The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he’ll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too; Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin, But partly led to diet my revenge, For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leap’d into my seat; the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even’d with him, wife for wife, Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, I’ll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb⁠— For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too⁠— Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me. For making him egregiously an ass