Jago.
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 swain,
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 meer 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 this place, and to plume up my will
A double knavery—How? how?—let's see—
After some time, t'abuse Othello's ears,
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 ingendred—Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. [Exit.

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