Iago’s Shadow won’t shut up. It says out loud the nasty biting assessments that can’t be passed off as a joke and ought to stay locked tight in his brain, and though he wishes dearly to strangle this thing that looks like him and is both nothing like him and more true to him than himself, he settles for scrubbing at his skin to chase away the corruption in his armor of virtue’s semblance.

People look at these soliloquys turned speeches and say that couldn’t possibly be him because the real Iago is too true and honest to say something so awful, and their ignorance and blind trust only makes him want to kill them more than before.