Othello:    Why, how now, ho? from whence ariseth this?
            Are we turned Turks, and to Ourselves do that
            Which heaven hath forbid the ottomites?
            For Christian shame put by this barbarous brawl!
            He hat stirs next to carve for his own rage
            Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion.
            Silence the dreadful bell, it frights the isle
            From her propriety, What is the matter, masters?
            Honest Iago, that looks dead with grieving
            Speak, Who began this? On thy love, I charge thee

Iago:       I do not know

   (Acts II, Scene Three, Lines 155 - 165) 

Speaker:    I durst, my Lord, to wager she is honest
            Lay down my soul at stake. If you think other,
            Remove your thought. It doth abuse your bosom
            If any wretch have put this your head,
            Let heaven requite it with the serpents curse
            For if she be not honest, chaste and true
            There's no man happy. The purest of their wives
            Is foul as slander
            

   (Acts IV, Scene Two, Lines 12-19)