Othello William Shakespeare (best books to read for success .txt) đ
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «Othello William Shakespeare (best books to read for success .txt) đ». Author William Shakespeare
Prithee, unpin meâ âhave grace and favour in them. Emilia I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. Desdemona
Allâs one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds!
If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me
In one of those same sheets.
My mother had a maid callâd Barbara:
She was in love, and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her: she had a song of âwillow;â
An old thing âtwas, but it expressâd her fortune,
And she died singing it: that song to-night
Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
But to go hang my head all at one side,
And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch.
No, unpin me here.
This Lodovico is a proper man.
Singing. The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,
Sing all a green willow:
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,
Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmurâd her moans;
Sing willow, willow, willow;
Her salt tears fell from her, and softenâd the stones;
Lay by these:â â
Singing. Sing willow, willow, willow;
Prithee, hie thee; heâll come anon:â â
Singing. Sing all a green willow must be my garland.
Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,-
Nay, thatâs not next.â âHark! who isât that knocks?
Emilia Itâs the wind. DesdemonaSinging. I callâd my love false love; but what said he then?
Sing willow, willow, willow:
If I court moe women, youâll couch with moe men!
So, get thee gone; good night. Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?
I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men!
Dost thou in conscience thinkâ âtell me, Emiliaâ â
That there be women do abuse their husbands
In such gross kind?
Nor I neither by this heavenly light;
I might doât as well iâ the dark.
The worldâs a huge thing: it is a great price.
For a small vice.
Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong
For the whole world.
Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would store the world they played for.
But I do think it is their husbandsâ faults
If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties,
And pour our treasures into foreign laps,
Or else break out in peevish jealousies,
Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us,
Or scant our former having in despite;
Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace,
Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know
Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell
And have their palates both for sweet and sour,
As husbands have. What is it that they do
When they change us for others? Is it sport?
I think it is: and doth affection breed it?
I think it doth: isât 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.
Cyprus. A street.
Enter Iago and Roderigo. IagoHere, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come:
Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home:
Quick, quick; fear nothing; Iâll be at thy elbow:
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that,
And fix most firm thy resolution.
I have no great devotion to the deed;
And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons:
âTis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies.
I have rubbâd this young quat almost to the sense,
And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio,
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other,
Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo,
He calls me to a restitution large
Of gold and jewels that I bobbâd from him,
As gifts to Desdemona;
It must not be: if Cassio do remain,
He hath a daily beauty in his life
That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor
May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril:
No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming.
That thrust had been mine enemy indeed,
But that my coat is better than thou knowâst
I will make proof of thine. Draws, and wounds Roderigo.
âTis he:â âO brave Iago, honest and just,
That hast such noble sense of thy friendâs wrong!
Thou teachest me.
Comments (0)