Tush! Never tell me. I take it much unkindlyThat thou, Iago, who hast had my purseAs if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
'Sblood, but you’ll not hear me! If ever I did dream of such a matter, abhor me.
Damn it, you’re not listening to me! I never dreamed this was happening—if you find out I did, you can go ahead and hate me.
Come on, don’t tell me that. I don’t like it that you knew about this, Iago. All this time I’ve thought you were such a good friend that I’ve let you spend my money as if it was yours.
By God, I’d rather be his executioner.
And there’s nothing I can do about it. That’s the curse of military service. You get promoted when someone likes you, not because you’re next in line. Now, you tell me: should I feel loyal to the Moor?