This like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death, The noise was high. Ha! No more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Weren’t good? I think she stirs again—No. What’s best to do? If she comes in, she’ll sure speak to my wife—My wife! My wife! What wife? I have no wife. Oh, insupportable! Oh, heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that the' frighted globe Should yawn at alteration.