EMILIA.
He call’d her whore: a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callet.
IAGO.
Why did he so?
DESDEMONA.
I do not know. I am sure I am none such.
IAGO.
Do not weep, do not weep: alas the day!
EMILIA.
Hath she forsook so many noble matches,
Her father, and her country, and her friends,
To be call’d whore? would it not make one weep?
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 devis’d this slander. I’ll be hang’d else.
IAGO.
Fie, there is no such man. It is impossible.