It was night, Cassio lay sleeping,
I was close by him.
In broken phrases he was revealing
an inward enchantment.
Slowly, slowly his lips were moving
in the abandon of passionate dreams;
then he did speak with faint murmuring voice:
“Sweet Desdemona!
Let us hide our loves.
Let us be wary!
I am quite bathed in heavenly ecstasy!”
The pleasure of his dream intensified;
softly enraptured,
he seemed to almost kiss the inner vision,
then did he say:
“I curse the [bad word] fate

that gave thee to the Moor.”
And then the dream was changed
into blind lethargy.