Iago. Think, my Lord!
Othello. Think, my Lord! Alas, thou echo’st me,
As if there were some monster in thy thought
Too hideous to be shewn. Thou dost mean something:
I heard thee say even now, thou lik’dst not that—
When Cassio left my wife. What did’st not like?
And when I told thee, he was of my counsel,
Of my whole course of wooing; thou criedst, indeed!
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain