I hate the Moor
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety.
He holds me well; The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man: let me see now:
To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:—
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear
That he is too familiar with his wife.
He hath a person and a smooth dispose
To be suspected, framed to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature,
That thinks men honest that but seem to be so,
And will as tenderly be led by the nose
As asses are. I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
So Iago (in Shakespeare’s Othello) introduces himself as a psychopath—a deceiver and manipulator who feigns friendship in order to destroy a man and his wife.
Iago is surely one of the most mysterious characters in all of literature. What exactly motivates him? He mentions a rumor abroad that Othello has slept with his wife, but he doesn’t say it with much conviction. It’s as though he’s offering it as a mere excuse for the mayhem he is planning. Othello’s greatest vulnerability is his trusting nature, which Iago intends to exploit with shocking ruthlessness.
Crime—and our fascination with crime—is as old as the Book of Genesis, in which Cain murders his brother Abel. I recently spoke with TNT radio host Pelle Neroth Taylor about my adventures as a true crime writer, and how they led me to recognize the official pandemic response for the massive organized crime that it was.
Mr. Taylor possesses vast knowledge of British and European affairs for the last fifty years. I had great fun conversing with him about crime, including the global organized crime that we’ve seen for the last four years.
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