Desdemona
It is my wretched fortune.
Iago
Beshrew him for’t!
How comes this trick upon him?
Desdemona
Nay, heaven doth know.
Emilia
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.
Iago
Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible.
Desdemona
If any such there be, heaven pardon him!
Emilia
A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones!
Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company?
What place? what time? what form? what likelihood?
The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave,
Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow.
O heaven, that such companions thou’ldst unfold,
And put in every honest hand a whip
To lash the rascals naked through the world
Even from the east to the west!