Iago.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse;
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I should time expend with such a snipe,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor,
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
He has done my office. I know not, if't be true;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for surety. He holds me well;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man. Let me see now;—
To get his place, and to plume up my Will,
A double knavery—How? how?—Let's see—
After some time t' abuse Othello's ear,

That he is too familiar with his wife—
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected; fram'd to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by th' nose,
As asses are.
I have't—it is engender'd—Hell and Night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. [Exit.

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