BRABANTIO.
What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice;
My house is not a grange.

RODERIGO.
Most grave Brabantio,
In simple and pure soul I come to you.

IAGO.
Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God if the
devil bid you. Because we come to do you service, and you think
we are ruffians, you'll have your daughter covered with a Barbary
horse; you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have coursers
for cousins and gennets for germans.

BRABANTIO.
What profane wretch art thou?

IAGO.
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor
are now making the beast with two backs.

BRABANTIO.
Thou art a villain.

IAGO.
You are--a senator.

BRABANTIO.
This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo.