DESDEMONA.
By heaven, you do me wrong.
OTHELLO.
Are not you a strumpet?
DESDEMONA.
No, as I am a Christian:
If to preserve this vessel for my lord
From any other foul unlawful touch
Be not to be a strumpet, I am none.
OTHELLO.
What, not a whore?
DESDEMONA.
No, as I shall be sav’d.
OTHELLO.
Is’t possible?
DESDEMONA.
O, heaven forgive us!
OTHELLO.
I cry you mercy then.
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello.—You, mistress,
Enter Emilia.
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keeps the gate of hell. You, you, ay, you!
We have done our course; there’s money for your pains.
I pray you turn the key, and keep our counsel.