All this, however, might apparently co-exist with absolute egoism and total want of humanity.  But, in the second place, it is not true that in Iago this egoism and this want are absolute, and that in this sense he is a thing of mere evil.  They are frightful, but if they were absolute Iago would be a monster, not a man.  The fact is, he tries to make them absolute and cannot succeed; and the traces of conscience, shame and humanity, though faint, are discernible.  If his egoism were absolute he would be perfectly indifferent to the opinion of others; and he clearly is not so.  His very irritation at goodness, again, is a sign that his faith in his creed is not entirely firm; and it is not entirely firm because he himself has a perception, however dim, of the goodness of goodness.  What is the meaning of the last reason he gives himself for killing Cassio: 

     He hath a daily beauty in his life
     That makes me ugly?

Does he mean that he is ugly to others?  Then he is not an absolute egoist.  Does he mean that he is ugly to himself?  Then he makes an open confession of moral sense.  And, once more, if he really possessed no moral sense, we should never have heard those soliloquies which so clearly betray his uneasiness and his unconscious desire to persuade himself that he has some excuse for the villainy he contemplates.  These seem to be indubitable proofs that, against his will, Iago is a little better than his creed, and has failed to withdraw himself wholly from the human atmosphere about him.  And to these proofs I would add, though with less confidence, two others.  Iago’s momentary doubt towards the end whether Roderigo and Cassio must be killed has always surprised me.  As a mere matter of calculation it is perfectly obvious that they must; and I believe his hesitation is not merely intellectual, it is another symptom of the obscure working of conscience or humanity.  Lastly, is it not significant that, when once his plot has begun to develop, Iago never seeks the presence of Desdemona; that he seems to leave her as quickly as he can (III. iv. 138); and that, when he is fetched by Emilia to see her in her distress (IV. ii. 110 ff.), we fail to catch in his words any sign of the pleasure he shows in Othello’s misery, and seem rather to perceive a certain discomfort, and, if one dare say it, a faint touch of shame or remorse?  This interpretation of the passage, I admit, is not inevitable, but to my mind (quite apart from any theorising about Iago) it seems the natural one.[118] And if it is right, Iago’s discomfort is easily understood; for Desdemona is the one person concerned against whom it is impossible for him even to imagine a ground of resentment, and so an excuse for cruelty.[119]