“We will discredit him. Stage an incident where he shames himself, a fight. I know that having spent a little time in the field and at sea with him, he does not well hold his drink. I will persuade him to drink with me, as a brother-in-arms, in celebration of the recent victory over the Genoans and of Othello’s marriage, then it will take little to push him into unwise action. Go now, find Cassio, but don’t let him see you. Follow him. Find his nightly habits, and therein look for the trap that we will set.”

“Find him? Where do I find him?”

“He is posted at the docks. Othello always has a senior officer at the docks to keep sailors and ships ready to launch at an instant. Remember the building from where he emerged to greet us? Find him there, and when his watch is ended, follow him.”

Rodrigo stood, buckled his swash, and prepared to leave. Paused. “Some money for dinner, perhaps?”

“You have none?”

“I’ve given all to you for Desdemona.”

“Very well,” said Iago, flipping him a silver coin. “And, Rodrigo?”

“Yes?” said Rodrigo, tucking the coin in his belt.

“She shall be yours. Adieu.”

“Adieu,” said Rodrigo with a smile as he left.

Iago turned to the old innkeeper, who now busied himself stirring the contents of a great black kettle hung over the fire.

“Thus have I made the fool my purse—for without fortune, would I spend time with such a sniveling snipe? I think not! Of all of Rodrigo’s fortune from his lands and his contracts called in, Desdemona has seen not a penny, but my own fortunes have been well-padded, for a time when I shall need finery that well fits my position: commanding general of Venice.

“Oh, the Moor will be undone, but my ascent to command is not assured with Cassio in my way. Rodrigo will clear him from my path by shaming him with a drunken brawl, thus will his downfall begin, and soon the Moor will follow him, dragged down by his darling Desdemona. Although Rodrigo is a dolt, he is a fair swordsman, and Cassio is of a steady nature and will not join a fight unless drunk, and therefore diminished. No, before the fight I will give Rodrigo some of the tarry potion that Brabantio used on the English fool—just enough to make him slow and dreamy, and if Cassio kills him, well, he will have served his purpose.

“The plan is engendered! My hatred takes life.”

CHORUS: And so did Iago yammer madly on into the night, oblivious to the innkeeper’s deafness and complete lack of interest.