Othello William Shakespeare (best books to read for success .txt) š
- Author: William Shakespeare
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What will you do with āt, that you have been so earnest
To have me filch it?
If it be not for some purpose of import,
Giveāt me again: poor lady, sheāll run mad
When she shall lack it.
Be not acknown on āt; I have use for it.
Go, leave me. Exit Emilia.
I will in Cassioās 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. 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.
Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack:
I swear ātis better to be much abused
Than but to knowāt a little.
What sense had I of her stolān hours of lust?
I sawāt not, thought it not, it harmād not me:
I slept the next night well, was free and merry;
I found not Cassioās kisses on her lips:
He that is robbād, not wanting what is stolān,
Let him not knowāt, and heās not robbād at all.
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!
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats
The immortal Joveās dead clamours counterfeit,
Farewell! Othelloās occupationās gone!
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore,
Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof:
Or by the worth of manās eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked wrath!
Make me to seeāt; 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 horrorās head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed;
For nothing canst thou to damnation add
Greater than that.
O grace! O heaven forgive me!
Are you a man? have you a soul or sense?
God be wiā you; take mine office. O wretched fool.
That livest to make thine honesty a vice!
O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world,
To be direct and honest is not safe.
I thank you for this profit; and from hence
Iāll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence.
I should be wise, for honestyās a fool
And loses that it works for.
By the world,
I think my wife be honest and think she is not;
I think that thou art just and think thou art not.
Iāll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh
As Dianās visage, is now begrimed and black
As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives,
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams,
Iāll not endure it. Would I were satisfied!
I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion:
I do repent me that I put it to you.
You would be satisfied?
And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord?
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape onā ā
Behold her toppād?
It were a tedious difficulty, I think,
To bring them to that prospect: damn them then,
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster
More than their own! What then? how then?
What shall I say? Whereās satisfaction?
It is impossible you should see this,
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys,
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say,
If imputation and strong circumstances,
Which lead directly to the door of truth,
Will give you satisfaction, you may haveāt.
I do not like the office:
But, sith I am enterād in this cause so far,
Prickād toāt by foolish honesty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say āSweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;ā
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry āO sweet creature!ā and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluckād up kisses by the roots
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sighād, and kissād; and then
Cried āCursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!ā
But this denoted a foregone conclusion:
āTis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream.
And this may help to thicken other proofs
That do demonstrate thinly.
Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done;
She may be honest yet. Tell me but this,
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief
Spotted with strawberries in your wifeās hand?
I know not that; but such a handkerchiefā ā
I am sure it was your wifeāsā ādid I to-day
See Cassio wipe his beard with.
If it be that, or any that was hers,
It speaks against her with the other proofs.
O, that the slave had forty thousand lives!
One is too poor, too weak for my revenge.
Now do I see ātis true.
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