Othello, the Moor of Venice

Despise m me if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capp’d to him; and by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast 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?