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Iago. My lord, for aught I know.
Oth. Think, my lord !
my whole course of wooing, thou cryd'st, Indeed? And did'st contract and purse thy brow together, As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me, Show me thy thought.
Iago. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth. I think, thou dost;
Iago. For Michael Cassio,---
Oth. I think so too.
Iago. Men should be what they seem; Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem none !
Oth. Certain, men should be what they seem.
Iago. Why then,
Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this : I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.
Iago. Good my lord, pardon me; Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts! Why, say, they are vile and false, As where's that palace, whereunto foul things Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure, But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets, and law-days, and in session sit With meditations lawful ?
Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think’st him wrong'd, and mak’st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
Iago. I do beseech you,-
Oth. What dost thou mean?
Iago. Good name, in man, and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis something, no
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought.
Iago. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.
Iago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on : That cuckold lives in bliss, Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, 0, what damned minutes tells he o'er, Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves !
Oth. O misery!
Iago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich, enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor :Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!
Oth. Why? why is this? Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions! No: to be once in doubt, Is—once to be resolv’d: Exchange me for a goat, When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous, To say-my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well; Where virtue is, these are more virtuous : Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
Iago. I am glad of this; for now I shall have reason
science Is---not to leave undone, but keep unknown,
Oth. Dost thou say so?
Iago. She did deceive her father, marrying you;
Oth. And so she did.
Iago. Why, go to then; She that, so young, could give out such a sceming, To seel her father's eyes up, close as oak,--He thought, 'twas witchcraft :---But I am much to
Oth. I am bound to thee for ever.
Oth. Not a jot, not a jot.
Iago. Trust me, I fear it has. I hope, you will consider, what is spoke Comes from my love ;---But, I do see you are mov’d:--I am to pray you, not to strain my speech To grosser issues, nor to larger reach, Than to suspicion.
Oth. I will not.
Iago. Should you do so, my lord, My speech should fall into such vile success As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy
Oth. No, not much mov’d :---
Iago. Long live she so! and long live you to think so!
Oth. Farewell, farewell :