Othello William Shakespeare (best books to read for success .txt) š
- Author: William Shakespeare
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Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn;
On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn:
I prithee, name the time, but let it not
Exceed three days: in faith, heās penitent;
And yet his trespass, in our common reasonā ā
Save that, they say, the wars must make examples
Out of their bestā āis not almost a fault
To incur a private cheque. When shall he come?
Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul,
What you would ask me, that I should deny,
Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio,
That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time,
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly,
Hath taāen your part; to have so much to do
To bring him in! Trust me, I could do muchā ā
Prithee, no more: let him come when he will;
I will deny thee nothing.
Why, this is not a boon;
āTis as I should entreat you wear your gloves,
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm,
Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit
To your own person: nay, when I have a suit
Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed,
It shall be full of poise and difficult weight
And fearful to be granted.
I will deny thee nothing:
Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this,
To leave me but a little to myself.
Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you;
Whateāer 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.
Did Michael Cassio, when you wooād my lady,
Know of your love?
But for a satisfaction of my thought;
No further harm.
Why of thy thought, Iago?
IagoI did not think he had been acquainted with her.
OthelloO, yes; and went between us very oft.
IagoIndeed!
OthelloIndeed! ay, indeed: discernāst thou aught in that?
Is he not honest?
Think, my lord!
By heaven, he echoes me,
As if there were some monster in his thought
Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something:
I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that,
When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like?
And when I told thee he was of my counsel
In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst āIndeed!ā
And didst contract and purse thy brow together,
As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain
Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me,
Show me thy thought.
I think thou dost;
And, for I know thouārt full of love and honesty,
And weighāst thy words before thou givest 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 thatās just
They are close delations, working from the heart
That passion cannot rule.
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!
Nay, yet thereās more in this:
I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings,
As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts
The worst of words.
Good my lord, pardon me:
Though I am bound to every act of duty,
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to.
Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false;
As whereās that palace whereinto foul things
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure,
But some uncleanly apprehensions
Keep leets and law-days and in session sit
With meditations lawful?
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago,
If thou but thinkāst him wrongād and makest his ear
A stranger to thy thoughts.
I do beseech youā ā
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my natureās plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are notā āthat your wisdom yet,
From one that so imperfectly conceits,
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
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; ātis something, nothing;
āTwas mine, ātis 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 ātis 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 oāer
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
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.
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
Why, why is this?
Thinkāst thou Iāld make a lie of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt
Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat,
When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference. āTis not to make me jealous
To say my wife is
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