I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:--
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bumbast circumstance
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war:
And, in conclusion, nonsuits
My mediators: for, "Certes," says he,
"I have already chose my officer."
And what was he?
Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
That never set a squadron in the field,
Nor the division of a battle knows
More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose
As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I,--of whom his eyes had seen the proof
At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds,
Christian and heathen,--must be belee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster;
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,
And I--God bless the mark! his Moorship's ancient.

RODERIGO.
By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman.

IAGO.
Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,
Preferment goes by letter and affection,