Imatges de pÓgina

But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers,
As now they are; and making practic'd smiles,
As in a looking-glass ;-and then to sigh, as 'twere
The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment
My bosom likes not, nor my brows.

He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected; fram'd to make women false.
Look to your wife;

observe her well with Cassio;
Wear your eye-thus, not jealous, nor secure :
I would not have your free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty, be abus'd: look to't.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy:

It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth muck
The meat it feeds on: That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:
But, O, what damn'd minutes tells he o'er,
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly loves.

Is whispering nothing?

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses?
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible
Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot to foot?
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift?
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes
Blind with the pin and web, but theirs, theirs only,
That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?
Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing.
This jealousy
Is for a precious creature: as she's rare,
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty,

Must it be violent.

Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,

Shall ever med'cine thee to that sweet sleep

Which thou ow'dst yesterday.

If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
I'll not endure it,-Would, I were satisfied!

Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it; give me the occular proof;
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog,
Than answer my waked wrath.

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, woe upon thy life..

If thou dost 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 can'st thou to damnation add,
Greater than that.

Avaunt! begone! thou hast set me on the rack :I swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd,

Than but to know't a little.

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 on 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.

I had been happy, if the general camp,
Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body,
So I had nothing known.

Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt,
Is once to be resolved.

No, Iago;

I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,-
Away at once with love, or jealousy.

All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven :
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown, and hearted throne,
To tyrannous hate! swell bosom, with thy fraught,
For 'tis of aspicks' tongues !


cry you mercy, then ; I took you for that cunning whore of Venice, That married with Othello.

I pray you, in your letters,

When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe.

O now, for ever,

Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content!
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars,
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell!
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The royal banner: and all quality,

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone!




And then, the justice;

In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise laws and modern instances,
And so he plays his part.

I do believe,

Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy; and make my
You shall not be my judge: for it is you
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me.


I see, men's judgments are

A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them,

To suffer all alike.

O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason.

To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,

And of opposed natures.

I charge you by the law,

Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar,
Proceed to judgment.


In the corrupted currents of this world,
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law: But 'tis not so above :

There is no shuffling, there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,

To give in evidence.

Plate sins with gold,

And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks :
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.

To vouch this, is no proof;

Without more certain and more overt test,
Than these thin habits, and
poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming, do prefer against him.

If you deny me, fie upon your law,

There is no force in the decrees of Venice :
I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it ?

As thou urgest justice, be assur'd,

Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st.

The justice and the truth o' th'
The due o' th' verdict with it:
Might corrupt minds procure

'Tis not ever question carries At what ease knaves as corrupt

To swear against you? such things have been done.

Impartial are our eyes, and ears:
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.

Yet show some pity.

Angelo. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know,

Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;

And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another.

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