Othello
A horned man’s a monster and a beast.
Iago
There’s many a beast then in a populous city,
And many a civil monster.
Othello
Did he confess it?
Iago
Good sir, be a man;
Think every bearded fellow that’s but yoked
May draw with you: there’s millions now alive
That nightly lie in those unproper beds
Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better.
O, ’tis the spite of hell, the fiend’s arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch,
And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know;
And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be.
Othello
O, thou art wise; ’tis certain.
Iago
Confine yourself but in a patient list.