Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. This is a trick to put me from my suit: Pray you, let Cassio be received again.

Come, come; You’ll never meet a more sufficient man.

A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shared dangers with you⁠—

I ne’er saw this before. Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

’Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; To eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband!

There is no other way; ’tis she must do’t: And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her.