Tis' most dreadful, that the blasted wretch of a captain hath lost me at sea. Seconds, become hours, minutes span days, and days. Days do I tell you become that of years! I yearn for my love, my own heart hath stopped its beating, and though I proclaim joy upon the drowning of the turks, it is only for my mens sake, for my own joy lies in care of noble Iago, Desdemona. But hark! therein a rowboats distance away lies cyprus, therein lies my heart. Oh the excitement, I fill as the men proclaim my arrival, I am sure Iago and cassio will heed my call beckoning them to meet me, as a show of their love, without doubt Desdemona will accompany them. My friends oh how I've missed them, time be it short I must hasten to the castle to make refuge , for my thirst is not sated with wine of my office. Must we prattle about any longer, but I must know the state of my affairs, noblest Iago shall do the job, fore there is none better then most Igao.
-Othello
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