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.

Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you That by your virtuous means I may again Exist, and be a member of his love Whom I with all the office of my heart Entirely honour: I would not be delay’d. If my offence be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purposed merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit; So shall I clothe me in a forced content, And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune’s alms.

Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio! My advocation is not now in tune; My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, Were he in favour as in humour alter’d. So help me every spirit sanctified, As I have spoken for you all my best And stood within the blank of his displeasure For my free speech! you must awhile be patient: What I can do I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you.