by: William Shakespeare

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345Avaunt! Be gone! Thou hast set me on the rack.
I swear ’tis better to be much abused
Than but to know ’t a little.
Get lost! You’ve tortured me with these thoughts. It is better to be tricked completely than to only suspect a little.
    How now, my lord!
What’s with you, my lord?
What sense had I in her stol'n hours of lust?
I saw ’t not, thought it not, it harmed not me.
350I slept the next night well, fed well, was free and merry.
I found not Cassio’s kisses on her lips.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know’t, and he’s not robbed at all.
I had no idea she was cheating on me. I never saw it or suspected it, so it never hurt me. I slept well, ate well, and was happy. I never saw Cassio’s kisses on her lips. A man who’s robbed, but doesn’t miss what’s stolen, isn’t robbed at all.
I am sorry to hear this.
I’m sorry to hear this.
355I had been happy if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known. Oh, now forever
Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!
Farewell the plumèd troops and the big wars
360That makes ambition virtue! Oh, 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!
365And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove’s dead clamors counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone.
I would’ve been happy if the whole army had had sex with her, the lowest-ranking grunts and all, as long as I didn’t know anything about it. Oh, goodbye to my peace of mind! Goodbye to my happiness! Goodbye to the soldiers and to the wars that make men great! Goodbye! Goodbye to the horses and the trumpets and the drums, the flute and the splendid banners, and all those proud displays and pageantry of war! And you deadly cannons that roar like thunderbolts thrown by the gods, goodbye! Othello’s career is over.
Is ’t possible, my lord?
Is this possible, my lord?
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
370Be 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 waked wrath!
You villain, you’d better be able to prove my wife’s a whore! Be sure of it. Get me proof I can see. If you can’t, trust me, you won’t want to feel my rage!