1 I have told thee often, and I retell thee again and again, I hate the Moor.
2 Now sir, be judge yourself Whether I in any just term am affin'd To love the Moor.
3 I hate the Moor, And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets He has done my office.'
4 Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling her fantastical lies.
5 I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.
6 For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: In following him, I follow but myself.
7 I'll set her on; Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, And bring him jump when he may Cassio find Soliciting his wife.
8 Farewell; for I must leave you: It seems not meet nor wholesome to my place To be produc'd, as if I stay I shall, Against the Moor.
9 I'll send her to you presently, And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor Out of the way, that your converse and business May be more free.
10 And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord.
11 And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor Should hazard such a place as his own second With one of an ingraft infirmity: It were an honest action to say so To the Moor.'
12 That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord.
13 But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted With foul and violent tempest.
14 The ship is here put in, A Veronessa; Michael Cassio, Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, Is come on shore; the Moor himself at sea, And is in full commission here for Cyprus.
15 And then for her To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function.
16 The thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards, And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife, Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgement cannot cure.
17 The general and his wife are talking of it, And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you And needs no other suitor but his likings To take the safest occasion by the front To bring you in again.
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