Emil. Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her,
Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her,
As true hearts cannot bear.[6468]
Des. Am I that name, Iago?
Iago. What name, fair lady?
Des. Such as she says my lord did say I was.[6469] 120
Emil. He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink
Could not have laid such terms upon his callat.[6470]
Iago. Why did he so?
Des. I do not know; I am sure I am none such.[6471]
Iago. Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! 125
Emil. Hath she forsook so many noble matches,[6472]
Her father and her country and her friends,[6473]
To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep?
Des. It is my wretched fortune.