“Clever. Then you have gold? To bribe the priest for his service—it’s unseemly to force him at the point of a dagger, although I’m not entirely against the idea.”

“I have gold,” said Othello.

“Fetch it,” said I. “I’ll revive the priest. He looked weak. He’ll have passed out by now.”

“Stronger men have succumbed from being monkey-fucked in the nostril for this long,” said the puppet Jones.

“Pardon?” asked Othello.

“He jests,” said I, shoving the puppet stick down my back.

“I’ll run put on some knickers,” said Desdemona.

“I was going to suggest that,” I called after her. “She’s lovely,” I whispered to the Moor.

I opened the door.

“I told you,” said the puppet Jones.

“Jeff! Get off him. Bad monkey! Bad monkey!”

“Jeff were havin’ a laugh wif the vicar,” said Drool.

And soon after, in the witness of a noble fool, a nitwit, a monkey, and a puppet on a stick, were Othello and the fair Desdemona made man and wife.

CHORUS: Two days did pass while the Moor and Desdemona enjoyed their wedded delights before word of their wedding spread from priest to soldier, to servant, to the ear of Rodrigo, and he, with heavy heart from having lost Desdemona, sought comfort in his friend Iago.

“Then the Moor has ruined Brabantio’s daughter?” said Iago, pacing about the officers’ quarters with the heady vim of inspiration. “Ha! The council will surely have him hanged, now. These are glad tidings indeed! You have witnesses, of course? If not, we shall have to shape some from the most upstanding scoundrels we can afford. You have money?”

“No, that won’t help,” whined Rodrigo. “He has not taken the lady against her will, he has married her. Yes, she is ruined, but by her own will and consent, ruined only for me; in the eyes of God and the state, she belongs to the Moor.”

“Oh balls.” Iago ceased his pacing. “Married?”

“By a priest.”

“The Moor and Desdemona married?”

“In front of witnesses. Signed into the city’s record.”

“Married? In front of witnesses?”

“Witnessed by a fool, a giant, and a monkey.”

“Balls!”

“You said that already.”

Iago now resumed his pacing, drew his dagger, and began drawing his plans in the air with the knife while Rodrigo flattened himself against the wall.

“It is not too late to make this marriage the Moor’s undoing. When did this wedding take place?”

“But two days ago. Even now Desdemona hides in the Moor’s house.”

“And the Montressor does not know of it?”

“No, he is in his apartments near the doge’s palace.”

“Not at Belmont?”

“It was at Belmont I heard the news, from Portia’s maid, Nerissa.”