RODERIGO.
I cannot believe that in her; she is full of most blessed
condition.
IAGO.
Blest fig's end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes: if
she had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor:
blessed pudding! Didst thou not see her paddle with the palm of
his hand? didst not mark that?
RODERIGO.
Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy.
IAGO.
Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the
history of lust and foul thoughts. They met so near with their
lips that their breaths embraced together. Villainous thoughts,
Roderigo! when these mutualities so marshal the way, hard at
hand comes the master and main exercise, the incorporate
conclusion: pish! — But, sir, be you ruled by me: I have brought
you from Venice. Watch you to-night: for the command, I'll lay't
upon you: Cassio knows you not: — I'll not be far from you: do you
find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud,
or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you
please, which the time shall more favourably minister.
RODERIGO.
Well.
