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