Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn: Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient, Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. Concerning this, sir⁠—O well-painted passion!⁠— I am commanded home. Get you away; I’ll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! Exit Desdemona. Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight, I do entreat that we may sup together: You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.⁠—Goats and monkeys! Exit.

Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze nor pierce?