Tragedy of Othello, the Moor of Venice

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Harper & Brothers, 1882 - 214 pages

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Page 39 - It is as sure as you are Roderigo, Were I the Moor, I would not be lago: In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end...
Page 32 - As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound ; there is more offence in that than in reputation. 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.
Page 58 - Moor, — put money in thy purse; — nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration; — put but money in thy purse. — These Moors are changeable in their wills; — fill thy purse with money : the food that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change for youth: when she is sated with his body, she will fi»d the error of her choice.
Page 100 - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. — Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
Page 79 - 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 ! lago.
Page 52 - She'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse : Which I observing, Took once a pliant hour ; and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate...
Page 51 - I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, And she in mine. DUKE Say it, Othello. OTHELLO Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, — the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd. I ran it through, even from my boyish days To the very moment that he bade me tell it: Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field; Of hair-breadth scapes i...
Page 97 - Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Page 33 - 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...
Page 89 - Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul. But I do love thee! and when I love thee not. Chaos is come again.

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