Iago. Will you sup there?
Cassio. Yes, I intend so

Iago. Well, I may chance to see you: for I would very
faine speake with you

Cas. Prythee come: will you?
Iago. Go too; say no more

Oth. How shall I murther him, Iago

Iago. Did you perceiue how he laugh'd at his vice?
Oth. Oh, Iago

Iago. And did you see the Handkerchiefe?
Oth. Was that mine?
Iago. Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes
the foolish woman your wife: she gaue it him and, he
hath giu'n it his whore

Oth. I would haue him nine yeeres a killing:
A fine woman, a faire woman, a sweete woman?
Iago. Nay, you must forget that

Othello. I, let her rot and perish, and be damn'd to
night, for she shall not liue. No, my heart is turn'd to
stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. Oh, the world
hath not a sweeter Creature: she might lye by an Emperours
side, and command him Taskes