Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wrong'd and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
The poetical character... is not itself it has no self it is every thing and nothing It has no character it enjoys light and shade; it lives in gusto, be it fair or foul, high or low, rich or poor, mean or elevated. It has as much delight in conceiving an Iago as an Imogen. What shocks the virtuous philospher, delights the camelion poet.john keats
O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog!