Is my lord angry?

Iago
Is my lord angry?
Emilia
He went hence but now,
And certainly in strange unquietness.
Iago
Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon
When it hath blown his ranks into the air
And, like the devil, from his very arm
Puffed his own brother—and is he angry?
Something of moment then. I will go meet him.
There's matter in ‘t indeed if he be angry.
Desdemona
I prithee do so. He exits.
Something, sure, of state,
Either from Venice, or some unhatched practice
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,
Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such cases
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things,
Though great ones are their object. ‘Tis even so.
For let our finger ache, and it endues
Our other healthful members even to a sense
Of pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods,
Nor of them look for such observancy
As fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,
I was—unhandsome warrior as I am!—
Arraigning his unkindness with my soul.
But now I find I had suborned the witness,
And he's indicted falsely.
Emilia
Pray heaven it be
State matters, as you think, and no conception
Nor no jealous toy concerning you.
Desdemona
Alas the day, I never gave him cause!
Emilia
But jealous souls will not be answered so.
They are not ever jealous for the cause,
But jealous for they're jealous. It is a monster
Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Desdemona
Heaven keep that  monster from Othello's mind!
Emilia
Lady, amen.