Act I

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.

’Sblood, but you will not hear me:

If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

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

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 bombast circumstance

Horribly stuff’d with epithets of war;

And, in conclusion,