IAGO.
Trust me, I fear it has.
I hope you will consider what is spoke
Comes from my love. But I do see you’re mov’d.
I am to pray you not to strain my speech
To grosser issues nor to larger reach
Than to suspicion.
OTHELLO.
I will not.
IAGO.
Should you do so, my lord,
My speech should fall into such vile success
Which my thoughts aim’d not. Cassio’s my worthy friend.
My lord, I see you’re mov’d.
OTHELLO.
No, not much mov’d.
I do not think but Desdemona’s honest.
IAGO.
Long live she so! And long live you to think so!
OTHELLO.
And yet, how nature erring from itself—
IAGO.
Ay, there’s the point. As, to be bold with you,
Not to affect many proposed matches,
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree,
Whereto we see in all things nature tends;
Foh! One may smell in such a will most rank,
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural.
But pardon me: I do not in position
Distinctly speak of her, though I may fear
Her will, recoiling to her better judgement,
May fall to match you with her country forms,
And happily repent.
OTHELLO.
Farewell, farewell:
If more thou dost perceive, let me know more;
Set on thy wife to observe. Leave me, Iago.
IAGO.
[Going.] My lord, I take my leave.
OTHELLO.
Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless
Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds.