That is precisely correct, lieutenant. We have never been friends, nor are we now, nor shall we ever be. As for the way I have treated my wife as of late, you hardly treat women any better than I do. But of course you lack the wit to recognize that.
"What?" Iago asked, breaking his expression of sorrow in favor of slight astonishment. "We, never friends?" He exhaled sheepishly and cast his gaze downwards. "O...well...I am sorry to hear that I was never your friend, lieutenant...though I must confess that you were ever mine." He heaved a sigh that bore the weight of a loss, and he looked forlorn once more. "But...that's no matter. Even if there had ever been a friendship, undoubtedly it would now be lost..."
He walked a few more steps in silence, the look of unrest on his face ever growing until he stopped in his tracks like one who had resigned himself to become a statue. Slowly, he lifted his eyes until he looked upon Cassio with a look that imported some sort of crushing realization.
"Truly, I do not think she wants to see me," Iago said in a voice that was almost choked with anguish. He shook his head slightly, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. "Not after how I have misused her."
I believe wholeheartedly that she weeps for my absence, the poor fool. Her heart overpowers her wisdom.
Iago trembled, and still trembling, fell to his knees. "O, Cassio!" he exclaimed in an agonized tone. He held out his hands before himself, looking upon them as he had done the dreadful night that he had done the deed, imagining that he was standing that evening with the guilt written on his palms in blood. "With these hands-even these very hands-I struck her! Yes-I confess it! Those marks you saw upon her cheeks-it was I who wrought them! I must report the truth, for it is at my nature to be honest, even when I have secrets that would rather hide." Iago faltered, and hid his face in his opened hands.
I can no longer control whether or not Cassio will found out the truth. But I can control how he finds it out. And if I can control that...
After a weary silence, Iago lifted his head just enough that he could be heard.
"...So now you know," he said, sounding taxed by his confession. "It was for this misconduct that I was...justly...relegated from my position as ensign. It was for grief, shame, and...I must admit...cowardice that I left my wife yesternight and did not return. Am I not a wretched soul? You are wise, lieutenant, to strip me of the honor of your respect, as it is what I deserve. I cannot believe but that Emilia has surely done the same…" Iago's eyes began to tear up at the apparent thought of it-he had not expected it to happen, but he welcomed it anyway.
"And thus...having lost the graces and favors of the general; you, good Cassio; and my...my wife… I can hardly find a reason in my heart that might purpose me to return again." Iago swallowed hard, as though it were difficult to do so, then threw a backward glance toward Roderigo. He gave the fellow a stern, meaningful look, then turned back to Cassio with torment etched in his countenance.