Othello quotes

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:

In following him, I follow but myself;

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end:

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end: For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment 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.

’Zounds, sir, you’re robb’d; for shame, put on your gown; Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;

Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is topping your white ewe.

Arise, arise; Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: Arise, I say.

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her: The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more.

Rude am I in my speech, And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace

:

she thank’d me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:

She loved me for the dangers I had pass’d, And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used: Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass’d, And I loved her that she did pity them.

This only is the witchcraft I have used:

Here comes the lady; let her witness it.

That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world: my heart’s subdued Even to the very quality of my lord:

I saw Othello’s visage in his mind

, And to his honour and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.

Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well.

Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: She has deceived her father, and may thee.

Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, etc.

Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: She has deceived her father, and may thee. Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, etc.

My life upon her faith!

Honest Iago, My Desdemona must I leave to thee: I prithee, let thy wife attend on her: And bring them after in the best advantage. Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour Of love, of worldly matters and direction, To spend with thee:

I am changed: I’ll go sell all my land. Exit.

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:

For I mine own gain’d knowledge should profane, If I would time expend with such a snipe. But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor: And it is thought abroad, that ’twixt my sheets He has done my office:

The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are. I have’t. It is engender’d.

Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light.

Exit.

For making him egregiously an ass And practising upon his peace and quiet Even to madness. ’Tis here, but yet confused:

Knavery’s plain face is never seen till used.

Exit.

Ay, past all surgery.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

My reputation, Iago, my reputation!

As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound; there is more sense 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. What, man! there are ways to recover the general again:

I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore.

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!

And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well cudgelled;

Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you; Whate’er you be, I am obedient. Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia.

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

What dost thou say, Iago?

For Michael Cassio, I dare be sworn I think that he is honest.

Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!

Certain, men should be what they seem.

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

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.

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.

You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on

; that cuckold lives in bliss Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; But, O, what damned minutes tells he o’er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!

Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt;

For she had eyes, and chose me.

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!

Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; For she had eyes, and chose me. 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!

I am abused; and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites!

I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others’ uses.

Yet, ’tis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base; ’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: Even then this forked plague is fated to us When we do quicken. Desdemona comes:

Be not acknown on ’t; I have use for it. Go, leave me. Exit Emilia. I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it.

Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ

: this may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison: Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons. Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood. Burn like the mines of Sulphur.

The Moor already changes with my poison: Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons. Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, But with a little act upon the blood. Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so: Look, where he comes!

Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep

Which thou owedst yesterday.

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

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!

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 dead clamours counterfeit, Farewell!

Othello’s occupation’s gone!

Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof: Or by the worth of man’s eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my waked wrath!

I ne’er saw this before. Sure, there’s some wonder in this handkerchief: I am most unhappy in the loss of it.

’Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; To eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us.

Look you, Cassio and my husband!

But jealous souls will not be answer’d so;

They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they are jealous: ’tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

Heaven keep that monster from Othello’s mind!

Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?

Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, Made to write “whore” upon?

What committed! Committed! O thou public commoner! I should make very forges of my cheeks, That would to cinders burn up modesty, Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed!

What is your pleasure, madam? How is’t with you?

I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks:

He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, I am a child to chiding.

Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?

The world’s a huge thing: it is a great price. For a small vice.

In troth, I think thou wouldst not.

Is it sport? I think it is: and doth affection breed it? I think it doth: is’t frailty that thus errs? It is so too: and have not we affections, Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

Then let them use us well: else let them know, The ills we do, their ills instruct us so.

Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send, Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! Exeunt.

Yet I’ll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she’ll betray more men.

Put out the light, and then put out the light

: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume.

Ay, and for that thou diest.

That death’s unnatural that kills for loving.

Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me.

She was false as water.

Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. O, I were damn’d beneath all depth in hell, But that I did proceed upon just grounds To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

O! O! O! He falls on the bed.

Nay, lay thee down and roar; For thou hast kill’d the sweetest innocent That e’er did lift up eye.

Rising. O, she was foul! I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp’d: I know this act shows horrible and grim.