Iago.

Do you meet me presently at the harbour. Come thither, if thou be'st valiant; as, they say, base men, being in love, have then a nobility in their natures, more than is native to them. List me, the lieutenant to-night watches on the Court of Guard. First,

I must tell thee, this Desdemona is directly in love with him.

Rod.

With him? why, 'tis not possible?

Iago.

^{5 note}Lay thy finger thus; and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me with what violence she first lov'd the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies. And will she love him still for prating? let not thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed. And what delight shall she have to look on the Devil? ^{6 note}When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be again to inflame it, and to give Satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties: all which the Moor is defective in. Now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abus'd, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it, and compel her to some second choice. Now, Sir, this granted, as it is a most pregnant and unforc'd position, who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune, as Cassio does? a knave very voluble; no farther conscionable, than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane Seeming, for the better compassing of his salt

and most hidden loose affection; a slippery and subtle knave, a finder of warm occasions, that has an eye can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself. A devilish knave! besides, the knave is handsom, young, and hath all those requisites in him, that folly and ^{7 note}green minds look after. A pestilent compleat knave! and the woman hath found him already.

Rod.

I cannot believe that of her, she's full of most bless'd ^{8 note}condition.

Iago.

Bless'd figs' end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes. If she had been bless'd, she would never have lov'd the Moor. Bless'd pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst not mark that?

Rod.

Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.

Iago.

Letchery, by this hand; an index, and obscure prologue to the history of lust, and foul thoughts. They met so near with their lips, that their breaths embrac'd together. Villainous thoughts, Rodorigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes the main exercise, the incorporate conclusion. Pish—But, Sir, be you rul'd by me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night. For the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows you not: I'll not be far from you. Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or ^{9 note}tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favourably minister.

Rod.

Well.

Iago.

Sir, he's rash, and very ^{1 note}sudden in choler:

and, haply, may strike at you. Provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause those of Cyprus to mutiny, ^{2 note}whose qualification shall come into no true taste again, but by displanting of Cassio. So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires, by the means I shall then have to prefer them, and the impediments most profitably removed, without which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

Rod.

I will do this, if you can bring it to any opportunity.

Iago.

I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel. I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewel.

Rod.

Adieu.