Othello Flashcards
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.
O insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse of sun and moon
It is the very error of the moon;
She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, and makes men mad.
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
And out of her own goodness make the net that shall enmesh them all.
When devils will the blackest sins put on
They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, as I do now
Her name, that was as fresh as Dian’s visage,
Is now begrimed and black as mine own face
Would you, the supervisor
Grossly gape on behold her topp’d?
O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil!
No, I will speak as liberal as the north: let heaven and men and devils,
Let them all, all, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak.
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it.
Cold, cold, my girl!
Even like thy chastity.
Whip me, ye devils
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Like the base Indian
Threw a pearl away richer than all his tribe
Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?
Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires
Much castigation; for here’s a young and sweating devil here
Is he not jealous?
I think the sun where he was born drew all such humours from him.
Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed
Even the bed she hath contaminated.
O, you are well tuned now!
But I’ll set down the pegs that make this music, as honest as I am.
If any wretch have put this in your head,
Let heaven requite it with the serpent’s curse!
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp’d cherubin,
Ay, there, look grim as hell!
Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations
Strong as proofs of holy writ
Virtue! a fig! ‘tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus.
Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, chaos is come again.
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food;
To eat us hungerly, and when they are full, They belch us
Where is that viper?
bring the villain forth.
The food that to him now is as luscious as locusts,
shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida.
I know not where is that Promethean heat that can thy light relume. When I have pluck’d the rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again. It must needs wither
It is thought abroad that ‘twixt my sheets.
He’s done my office
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath leaped into my seat
