Avaunt, be gone! thou hast set me on the rack.
I swear ’tis better to be much abus’d
Than but to know’t a little.
What sense had I in her stol’n hours of lust?
I saw’t not, thought it not; it harm’d not me.
I slept the next night well, fed 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 troops and the big wars
That makes ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, th’ ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
Th’ immortal Jove’s dread clamors counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone.
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof,
Or by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my wak’d wrath!
Make me to see’t; or (at the least) so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!
If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror’s head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz’d;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
By the world,
I think my wife be honest, and think she is not;
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not.
I’ll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dian’s visage, is now begrim’d and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I’ll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!