Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; The gravity and stillness of your youth The world hath noted, and your name is great In mouths of wisest censure: what’s the matter, That you unlace your reputation thus And spend your rich opinion for the name Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it.

Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: Your officer, Iago, can inform you⁠— While I spare speech, which something now offends me⁠— Of all that I do know: nor know I aught By me that’s said or done amiss this night; Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, And to defend ourselves it be a sin When violence assails us.