Emilia
You shall not write my praise.
Iago
No, let me not.
Desdemona
What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst
praise me?
Iago
O gentle lady, do not put me to’t;
For I am nothing, if not critical.
Desdemona
Come on, assay. There’s one gone to the harbour?
Iago
Ay, madam.
Desdemona
I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.