William Shakespeare: Othello, Moor of Venice

ACT III. 3. SCENE III. Cyprus. The Garden of the Castle. (continued)

OTHELLO.
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 't.--Would I were satisfied!

IAGO.
I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?

OTHELLO.
Would! nay, I will.

IAGO.
And may: but how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on,--
Behold her tupp'd?

OTHELLO.
Death and damnation! O!

IAGO.
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Where's satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,--
Which lead directly to the door of truth,--
Will give you satisfaction, you may have't.

OTHELLO.
Give me a living reason she's disloyal.

IAGO.
I do not like the office;
But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,--
Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love,--
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say, "Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves";
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry, "O sweet creature!" and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots,
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd and kiss'd; and then
Cried, "Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!"