“He kilt the Moor!” said a woman from her window.

“I did not kill him.”

The door of Cassio’s house opened and the onetime captain stepped out wearing a robe.

“Iago? What is this? You’ve killed Othello?”

“No, he’s fine. He’s having an epilepsy. A fit. It is his second in two days.”

“He’s not having a fit. He’s grinning like a lunatic.”

“Eyes that sparkle so that all the constellations would tumble from the skies to be within her sight,” whispered the Moor to the sky.

“What is he on about?” said Cassio.

“I don’t know. Help me get him to a physician,” said Iago.

When Othello awoke he found himself on a small bed in a small room, with Iago sitting by his bedside. “Where am I?” said the Moor. “How did I come to be here?”

“You are in my quarters at the inn, my lord. I brought you here myself, with the doctor, when you fell into your apoplexy at your lady’s betrayal.”

Having completely failed to get Michael Cassio to kill Othello, Iago had amended his plan to goad the Moor into doing something so outrageous that Venice couldn’t help but reject him, despite what the Chorus said.

“Apoplexy? Betrayal? I remember only that we were going to Cassio’s house to find my handkerchief, but after that all is in fog.”

“Oh, you went to Cassio’s house, and found your handkerchief under the lovers, Cassio doing dreadful animal things to your lady, who yowled like a cat in heat, and screamed for him . . . Oh, I cannot say.”

“No, say. It would be an excellent idea for you to say.”

“She did call for him to shag away the memory of that black monster’s touch.”

“Monster, was it?”

“Yes. And then Cassio called you a twat.”

“Cassio did? While he was atop Desdemona?”

“Didn’t even break rhythm. Just, ‘eek, eek, eek, you twat, eek, eek eek.’ ”

“He said that? ‘eek, eek, eek’?”

“No, my lord, but his bed is squeaky, and thus I spoke how it squoke as he pounded your wife like the slut that she is.”

“Well, that must have angered me indeed?”

“Indeed it did. You were so overcome with anger, and heartbreak, of course, that you fell into a fit of apoplexy and twitched upon the ground like a beheaded chicken.”

“Like a chicken? I don’t remember ever having been so angry. So you have dealt my wrath upon Cassio.”

“As soon as the physician arrived, yes. He is deeply dead, but for the actual killing bit.”

“Good man, Iago.”

“I am thy sword, my lord. But it was not on me to kill the wanton bitch that is your wife. That is your right as a husband wronged.”

“And so I shall.”