I won his daughter with. * Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes, I ran it through, even from my boyish days, Of being taken by the insolent foe, And sold to slavery: of my redemption thence, These things to hear, * * Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house affairs would draw her thence; She swore,-In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; She wish'd, she had not heard it: yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, * My behaviour. + Parts. Intention and attention were once synonymous. And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake: ACT II. PERFECT CONTENT. O my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, ACT III. A LOVER'S EXCLAMATION. Farewell, my Desdemona. I will come to thee * straight. [Exit DESDEMONA. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, As if there were some monster in his thought I heard thee say but now-Thou lik'dst not that, In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed? Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me, Iago. My lord, you know I love you. Oth. I think, thou dost; And, for I know thou art 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: For such things, in a false disloyal knave, Are tricks of custom; but in a man that's just, They are close denotements, working from the heart, That passion cannot rule. REPUTATION. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he, that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. OTHELLO'S JEALOUSY GAINING GRound. This fellow's of exceeding honesty, And knows all qualities with a learned spirit, То pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black; Must be to loath her. O curse of marriage, A species of hawk, also a term of reproach applied to a wanton. † Straps of leather by which a hawk is held on the fist. Men of intrigue. Than keep a corner in the thing I love, For other's uses. DEFINITION OF JEALOUSY. Trifles, light as air, Are, to the jealous, confirmations, strong As proofs of holy writ. lago. Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,* [Enter Othello. Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Oth. To me? Ha! ha! false to me? Iago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. Oth. Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack: I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd, 'Than but to know't a little. Iago. How now, my lord? Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: I slept the next night well, was free and merry; I found not Cassio's kisses upon her lips: He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all. Iago. I am sorry to hear this. 1 Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! † Possessed'st. The vilest of the camp. degraded soldiers. Pioneers were generally The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! Iago. Is it possible!-My lord, Oth. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore; Be sure of it; give me the occular proof: [Taking him by the throat. Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog, Iago. Is it come to this? Oth. Make me to see it; or (at the least) so prove it, That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop, To hang a doubt on: or, wo upon thy life! Iago. My noble lord Oth. If thou doth slander her, and torture me, Never pray more: abandon all remorse:* On horror's head horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd, For nothing canst thou to damnation add, Greater than that. Iago. O grace! O heaven defend me! Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense?God be wi' you; take mine office.-O wretched fool, That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice!— O monstrous world! Take note! take note, O world, I thank you for this profit; and, from hence, Oth. I'll not endure it.-Would, I were satisfied! * All tenderness, all pity. |