Oth. Excellent wretch: Perdition catch my Soule
But I do loue thee: and when I loue thee not,
Chaos is come againe

Iago. My Noble Lord

Oth. What dost thou say, Iago?
Iago. Did Michael Cassio
When he woo'd my Lady, know of your loue?
Oth. He did, from first to last:
Why dost thou aske?
Iago. But for a satisfaction of my Thought,
No further harme

Oth. Why of thy thought, Iago?
Iago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir

Oth. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft

Iago. Indeed?
Oth. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that?
Is he not honest?
Iago. Honest, my Lord?
Oth. Honest? I, Honest

Iago. My Lord, for ought I know

Oth. What do'st thou thinke?
Iago. Thinke, my Lord?
Oth. Thinke, my Lord? Alas, thou ecchos't me;