Iago.  My noble lord.

   Othello.  What dost thou say, Iago?

   Iago.  Did Michael Cassio,
     When you woo’d my lady, know of your love?

   Othello.  He did from first to last. 
     Why dost thou ask?

   Iago.  But for a satisfaction of my thought,
     No further harm.

   Othello.  Why of thy thought, Iago?

   Iago.  I did not think he had been acquainted with it.

   Othello.  O yes, and went between us very oft—­

   Iago.  Indeed!

   Othello.  Indeed?  Ay, indeed.  Discern’st thou aught of
     that? 
     Is he not honest?

   Iago.  Honest, my lord?

   Othello.  Honest?  Ay, honest.

   Iago.  My lord, for aught I know.

   Othello.  What do’st thou think?

   Iago.  Think, my lord!

   Othello.  Think, my lord!  Alas, thou echo’st me,
     As if there was some monster in thy thought
     Too hideous to be shown.

The stops and breaks, the deep workings of treachery under the mask of love and honesty, the anxious watchfulness, the cool earnestness, and if we may so say, the passion of hypocrisy marked in every line, receive their last finishing in that inconceivable burst of pretended indignation at Othello’s doubts of his sincerity.

     O grace!  O Heaven forgive me! 
     Are you a man?  Have you a soul or sense? 
     God be wi’ you; take mine office.  O wretched fool,
     That lov’st to make thine honesty a vice! 
     Oh monstrous world! take note, take note, O world! 
     To be direct and honest, is not safe. 
     I thank you for this profit, and from hence
     I’ll love no friend, since love breeds such offence.

If Iago is detestable enough when he has business on his hands and all his engines at work, he is still worse when he has nothing to do, and we only see into the hollowness of his heart.  His indifference when Othello falls into a swoon, is perfectly diabolical.

   Iago.  How is it.  General?  Have you not hurt your head?

   Othello.  Dost thou mock me?

   Iago.  I mock you not, by Heaven, &c.

The part indeed would hardly be tolerated, even as a foil to The virtue and generosity of the other characters in the play, But for its indefatigable industry and inexhaustible resources, Which divert the attention of the spectator (as well as his own) from the end he has in view to the means by which it must be accomplished.—­Edmund the Bastard in Lear is something of the same character, placed in less prominent circumstances.  Zanga is a vulgar caricature of it.

TIMON OF ATHENS