I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks: He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding.

Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her. Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, As true hearts cannot bear.

He call’d her whore: a beggar in his drink Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.

Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father and her country and her friends, To be call’d whore? would it not make one weep?

Beshrew him for’t! How comes this trick upon him?

I will be hang’d, if some eternal villain, Some busy and insinuating rogue, Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, Have not devised this slander; I’ll be hang’d else.