William Shakespeare 
Othello, the Moor of Venice 

SCENE I. Venice. A street.

[Enter Roderigo and Iago.]
RODERIGO
Tush, never tell me; I take it much unkindly
That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse
As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this, —

IAGO
'Sblood, but you will not hear me:—
If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.

RODERIGO
Thou told’st me thou didst hold him in thy hate.

IAGO
Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capp’d to him:—and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:—
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bumbast circumstance
Horribly stuff’d with epithets of war:
And, in conclusion, nonsuits
My mediators: for, 'Certes, ’ says he,
'I have already chose my officer.’
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn’d in a fair wife;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I, —of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds,
Christian and heathen, —must be belee’d and calm’d
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster;
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I—God bless the mark! his Moorship’s ancient.