Her
failure, on seeing Othello's agitation about the handkerchief, to form
any suspicion of an intrigue, shows how little she doubted her husband.
Even when, later, the idea strikes her that some scoundrel has poisoned
Othello's mind, the tone of all her speeches, and her mention of the
rogue who (she believes) had stirred up Iago's jealousy of her, prove
beyond doubt that the thought of Iago's being the scoundrel has not
crossed her mind (IV. ii. 115-147). And if any hesitation on the subject
could remain, surely it must be dispelled by the thrice-repeated cry of
astonishment and horror, 'My husband!', which follows Othello's words,
'Thy husband knew it all'; and by the choking indignation and desperate
hope which we hear in her appeal when Iago comes in:
Disprove this villain if thou be'st a man:
He says thou told'st him that his wife was false:
I know thou did'st not, thou'rt not such a villain:
Speak, for my heart is full.
Even if Iago _had_ betrayed much more of his true self to his wife than
to others, it would make no difference to the contrast between his true
self and the self he presented to the world in general. But he never did
so. Only the feeble eyes of the poor gull Roderigo were allowed a
glimpse into that pit.
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