Othello

A huswife that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes. It is a creature That dotes on Cassio (as ’tis the strumpet’s plague To beguile many and be beguil’d by one);

A knave very voluble; no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compass of his salt and most hidden loose affection?

All offices are open, and there is full liberty of feasting from this present hour of five till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello!

And little of this great world can I speak More than pertains to feats of broils and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself.

And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even’d with him, wife for wife; Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure.

And yet I fear you; for you’re fatal then When your eyes roll so. Why I should fear I know not, Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

As men in rage strike those that wish them best, Yet surely Cassio, I believe, receiv’d From him that fled some strange indignity Which patience could not pass.

Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof, Or by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my wak’d wrath!

But then I saw no harm, and then I heard Each syllable that breath made up between them.

Come, my dear love, The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; That profit’s yet to come ’tween me and you.— Good night.

Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much, And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

DES. Seek him, bid him come hither. Tell him I have mov’d my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. CLO. To do this is within the compass of man’s wit, and therefore I will attempt the doing it.

Demand me nothing; what you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word.

Do you find some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or from what other course you please, which the time shall more favorably minister.

Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell As when, by night and negligence, the fire Is spied in populous cities.

Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall nev’r look back, nev’r ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up.

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! And when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

For if he be not one that truly loves you, That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, I have no judgment in an honest face. I prithee call him back.

For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In complement extern, ’tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Good night, good night. God me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend.

He speaks home, madam. You may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar.

He, swift of foot, Outran my purpose; and I return’d the rather For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, And Cassio high in oath; which till tonight I ne’er might say before.

His soul is so enfetter’d to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function.

How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Thou know’st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft, And wit depends on dilatory time.

I am no strumpet, but of life as honest As you that thus abuse me.

I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am by seeming otherwise.— Come, how wouldst thou praise me?

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.

I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege, and my demerits May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach’d;

. I have seen the day That with this little arm, and this good sword, I have made my way through more impediments Than twenty times your stop.

I should be wise—for honesty’s a fool And loses that it works for.

I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience; but, alas, to make me The fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at!

I that am cruel am yet merciful, I would not have thee linger in thy pain.

I think thou dost; And for I know thou’rt full of love and honesty, And weigh’st thy words before thou giv’st them breath, Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more;

I told him what I thought, and told no more Than what he found himself was apt and true.

I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout; If I do find him fit, I’ll move your suit And seek to effect it to my uttermost.

Iago, look with care about the town, And silence those whom this vild brawl distracted. Come, Desdemona, ’tis the soldiers’ life To have their balmy slumbers wak’d with strife.

If any wretch have put this in your head, Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse! For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There’s no man happy; the purest of their wives Is foul as slander.

If consequence do but approve my dream, My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.

If he say so, may his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day! He lies to th’ heart. She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

If it were now to die, ’Twere now to be most happy; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.

If my offense be of such mortal kind That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, Nor purpos’d merit in futurity, Can ransom me into his love again, But to know so must be my benefit;

If she be black, and thereto have a wit, She’ll find a white that shall her blackness hit.

If she be in her chamber or your house, Let loose on me the justice of the state For thus deluding you.

If this be known to you, and your allowance, We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; But if you know not this, my manners tell me We have your wrong rebuke.

If thou be’st valiant (as they say base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them), list me.

If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her patent to offend, for if it touch not you, it comes near nobody.

In honest plainness thou hast heard me say My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness (Being full of supper and distemp’ring draughts), Upon malicious bravery dost thou come To start my quiet.

In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom Devesting them for bed; and then, but now (As if some planet had unwitted men), Swords out, and tilting one at other’s breast, In opposition bloody.

Is this the noble Moor whom our full Senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? Whose solid virtue The shot of accident nor dart of chance Could neither graze nor pierce?

It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom, To let you know my thoughts.

Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons.

Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.

Let him do his spite; My services which I have done the signiory Shall out—tongue his complaints.

Make me to see’t; or (at the least) so prove it That the probation bear no hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life!

Marry, sir, by many a wind instrument that I know. But, masters, here’s money for you; and the general so likes your music, that he desires you for love’s sake to make no more noise with it.

Most fortunately: he hath achiev’d a maid That paragons description and wild fame; One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, And in th’ essential vesture of creation Does tire the ingener.

My lord, I would I might entreat your honor To scan this thing no farther; leave it to time.

No, I will speak as liberal as the north: Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak.

Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt, For she had eyes, and chose me.

Nothing at all, it is a high-wrought flood. I cannot, ’twixt the heaven and the main, Descry a sail.

O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! That we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!

O Spartan dog, More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! Look on the tragic loading of this bed; This is thy work. The object poisons sight, Let it be hid.

O insupportable! O heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that th’ affrighted globe Did yawn at alteration.

O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speak’st of I found by fortune, and did give my husband; For often, with a solemn earnestness (More than indeed belong’d to such a trifle), He begg’d of me to steal’t.

O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!

O, the more angel she, And you the blacker devil!

Pardon me, Bianca. I have this while with leaden thoughts been press’d, But I shall in a more continuate time Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca,

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough, But riches fineless is as poor as winter To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.

Rude am I in my speech, And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us’d Their dearest action in the tented field;

She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so bless’d a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested.

She never yet was foolish that was fair, For even her folly help’d her to an heir.

She that was ever fair, and never proud, Had tongue at will, and yet was never loud, Never lack’d gold, and yet went never gay, Fled from her wish, and yet said, “Now I may”;

She was in love, and he she lov’d prov’d mad, And did forsake her. She had a song of “Willow,” An old thing ’twas, but it express’d her fortune, And she died singing it.

So shall I clothe me in a forc’d content, And shut myself up in some other course, To fortune’s alms.

So shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the impediment most profitably remov’d, without the which there were no expectation of our prosperity.

So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep, But they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly, It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.

so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up tine, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manur’d with industry—why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.

Then must you speak Of one that lov’d not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme;

There are many events in the womb of time which will be deliver’d. Traverse, go, provide thy money. We will have more of this tomorrow.

These fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago.

These letters give, Iago, to the pilot, And by him do my duties to the Senate. That done, I will be walking on the works; Repair there to me.

This fellow’s of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, Of human dealings.

This is the night That either makes me, or foredoes me quite.

Though other things grow fair against the sun, Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.

’Tis the curse of service; Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th’ first.

To vouch this is no proof, Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him.

Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ; this may do something.

Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not To please the palate of my appetite, Nor to comply with heat (the young affects In me defunct) and proper satisfaction; But to be free and bounteous to her mind.

We must not think the Turk is so unskillful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain To wake and wage a danger profitless.

What cannot be preserv’d when Fortune takes, Patience her injury a mock’ry makes. The robb’d that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners, and beauties—all which the Moor is defective in.

Whip me, ye devils, From the possession of this heavenly sight! Blow me about in winds! Roast me in sulphur! Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! O Desdemon! Dead, Desdemon! Dead!

Who has that breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law-days and in sessions sit With meditations lawful?

Why, we have galls; and though we have some grace, Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them; they see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have.

Yet, for necessity of present life, I must show out a flag and sign of love, Which is indeed but sign.

You must awhile be patient. What I can do, I will; and more I will Than for myself I dare. Let that suffice you.