| I follow him to serve my turn upon him.We cannot all be masters, nor all mastersCannot be truly followed. You shall markMany a duteous and knee-crooking knaveThat, doting on his own obsequious bondage,Wears out his time, much like his master’s ass,For naught but provender, and when he’s old,cashiered.Whip me such honest knaves! Others there areWho, trimmed in forms and visages of duty,Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves,And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,Do well thrive by them; and when they have linedtheir coats,Do themselves homage. These fellows have somesoul,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.For when my outward action doth demonstrateThe native act and figure of my heartIn complement extern, ’tis not long afterBut I will wear my heart upon my sleeveFor daws to peck at. I am not what I am. | Iago in Act 1, Scene 1, Lines 44-71 |
| you’ll havecoursers for cousins and jennets for germans. | Iago in Act 1, Scene 1, Lines 126-27 |
| 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 offendingHath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace;For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith,Till now some nine moons wasted, they have usedTheir dearest action in the tented field,And little of this great world can I speakMore than pertains to feats of broil and battle.And therefore little shall I grace my causeIn speaking for myself. Yet, by your graciouspatience,I will a round unvarnished tale deliverOf my whole course of love—what drugs, whatcharms,What conjuration, and what mighty magic(For such proceeding I am charged withal)I won his daughter. | Othello in Act 1, Scene 3, Lines 91-111 |
| So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile,We lose it not so long as we can smile.He bears the sentence well that nothing bearsBut the free comfort which from thence he hears;But he bears both the sentence and the sorrowThat, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow.These sentences to sugar or to gall,Being strong on both sides, are equivocal.But words are words. I never yet did hearThat the bruised heart was piercèd through theear.I humbly beseech you, proceed to th’ affairs ofstate. | Brabantio in Act 1, Scene 3, Lines 241-53 |
| Virtue? A fig! ‘Tis in ourselves that we are thus orthus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which ourwills are gardeners. So that if we will plant nettlesor sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme,supply it with one gender of herbs or distract itwith many, either to have it sterile with idleness ormanured with industry, why the power and corrigibleauthority of this lies in our wills. If the balanceof our lives had not one scale of reason to poiseanother of sensuality, the blood and baseness of ournatures would conduct us to most prepost’rousconclusions. But we have reason to cool our ragingmotions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts—whereof I take this that you call love to be a sect, orscion. | Iago in Act 1, Scene 3, Lines 361-75 |
| Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.For I mine own gained knowledge should profaneIf I would time expend with such a snipeBut for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor,And it is thought abroad that ‘twixt my sheets’Has done my office. I know not if ‘t be true,But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,Will do as if for surety. He holds me well.The better shall my purpose work on him.Cassio’s a proper man. Let me see now:To get his place and to plume up my willIn double knavery—How? how?—Let’s see.After some time, to abuse Othello’s earThat he is too familiar with his wife.He hath a person and a smooth disposeTo be suspected, framed to make women false.The Moor is of a free and open natureThat thinks men honest that but seem to be so,And will as tenderly be led by th’ noseAs asses are.I have ‘t. It is engendered. Hell and nightMust bring this monstrous birth to the world’s light. | Iago in Act 1, Scene 3, Lines 426-47 |
| A segregation of the Turkish fleet.For do but stand upon the foaming shore,The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds,The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrousmane,Seems to cast water on the burning BearAnd quench the guards of th’ ever-fixèd pole.I never did like molestation viewOn the enchafèd flood. | Second Gentleman in Act 2, Scene 1, Lines 10-21 |
| ‘Has had most favorable and happy speed!Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,The guttered rocks and congregated sands(Traitors ensteeped to clog the guiltless keel),As having sense of beauty, do omitTheir mortal natures, letting go safely byThe divine Desdemona. | Cassio in Act 2, Scene 1, Lines 74-80 |
| She that I spake of, our great captain’s captain,Left in the conduct of the bold Iago,Whose footing here anticipates our thoughtsA sennight’s speed. Great Jove, Othello guard,And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath,That he may bless this bay with his tall ship,Make love’s quick pants in Desdemona’s arms,Give renewed fire to our extincted spirits,And bring all Cyprus comfort!Enter [Name 1 Omitted], [Name 2 Omitted], [Name 3 Omitted], and [Name 4 Omitted].O, behold,The riches of the ship is come on shore!You men of Cyprus, let her have your knees.He kneels.Hail to thee, lady, and the grace of heaven,Before, behind thee, and on every handEnwheel thee round. | Cassio in Act 2, Scene 1, Lines 82-96 |
| Come on, come on! You are pictures out of door, bells in your parlors, wildcats in your kitchens, saints in your injuries, devils being offended, players in your huswifery, and huswives in your beds. | Iago in Act 2, Scene 1, Lines 122-125 |
| Lechery, by this hand! An index and obscureprologue to the history of lust and foul thoughts.They met so near with their lips that their breathsembraced together. Villainous thoughts, Roderigo!When these mutualities so marshal the way, hardat hand comes the master and main exercise, th’incorporate conclusion. Pish! But, sir, be you ruledby me. I have brought you from Venice. Watch youtonight. For the command, I’ll lay ‘t upon you.Cassio knows you not. I’ll not be far from you. Doyou find some occasion to anger Cassio, either byspeaking too loud, or tainting his discipline, or fromwhat other course you please, which the time shallmore favorably minister. | Iago in Act 2, Scene 1, Lines 279-292 |
| Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I havelost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part ofmyself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation,Iago, my reputation! | Cassio in Act 2, Scene 3, Lines 281- |
| And what’s he, then, that says I play the villain,When this advice is free I give and honest,Probal to thinking, and indeed the courseTo win the Moor again? For ’tis most easyTh’ inclining Desdemona to subdueIn any honest suit. She’s framed as fruitfulAs the free elements. And then for herTo win the Moor—were ‘t to renounce his baptism,All seals and symbols of redeemèd sin—His soul is so enfettered to her loveThat she may make, unmake, do what she list,Even as her appetite shall play the godWith his weak function. How am I then a villainTo counsel Cassio to this parallel courseDirectly to his good? Divinity of hell!When devils will the blackest sins put on,They do suggest at first with heavenly shows,As I do now. For whiles this honest foolPlies Desdemona to repair his fortune,And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor,I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear:That she repeals him for her body’s lust;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 netThat shall enmesh them all. | Iago in Act 2, Scene 3, Line 356- |
| I do beseech you,Though I perchance am vicious in my guess—As, I confess, it is my nature’s plagueTo spy into abuses, and oft my jealousyShapes faults that are not—that your wisdomFrom one that so imperfectly conceitsWould take no notice, nor build yourself a troubleOut of his scattering and unsure observance.It were not for your quiet nor your good,Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom,To let you know my thoughts. | Iago in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 170- |
| This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,And knows all qualities with a learnèd spiritOf human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,I’d whistle her off and let her down the windTo prey at fortune. Haply, for I am blackAnd have not those soft parts of conversationThat chamberers have, or for I am declinedInto the vale of years—yet that’s not much—She’s gone, I am abused, and my reliefMust be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,That we can call these delicate creatures oursAnd not their appetites! I had rather be a toadAnd live upon the vapor of a dungeonThan keep a corner in the thing I loveFor others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones;Prerogatived are they less than the base.’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.Even then this forkèd plague is fated to usWhen we do quicken. Look where she comes. | Othello in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 199- |
| Ay, there’s the point. As, to be bold with you,Not to affect many proposèd matchesOf her own clime, complexion, and degree,Whereto we see in all things nature tends—Foh! One may smell in such a will most rank,Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural—But pardon me—I do not in positionDistinctly speak of her, though I may fearHer will, recoiling to her better judgment,May fall to match you with her country formsAnd happily repent. | Iago in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 268- |
| This fellow’s of exceeding honesty,And knows all qualities with a learnèd spiritOf human dealings. If I do prove her haggard,Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings,I’d whistle her off and let her down the windTo prey at fortune. Haply, for I am blackAnd have not those soft parts of conversationThat chamberers have, or for I am declinedInto the vale of years—yet that’s not much—She’s gone, I am abused, and my reliefMust be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,That we can call these delicate creatures oursAnd not their appetites! I had rather be a toadAnd live upon the vapor of a dungeonThan keep a corner in the thing I loveFor others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones;Prerogatived are they less than the base.’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.Even then this forkèd plague is fated to usWhen we do quicken. Look where she comes. | Othello in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 299- |
| Be not acknown on ‘t.I have use for it. Go, leave me.Emilia exits.I will in Cassio’s lodging lose this napkinAnd let him find it. Trifles light as airAre to the jealous confirmations strongAs 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 bloodBurn like the mines of sulfur.Enter [Name Omitted].I did say so.Look where he comes. Not poppy nor mandragoraNor all the drowsy syrups of the worldShall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleepWhich thou owedst yesterday. | Iago in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 368 |
| I had been happy if the general camp,Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body,So I had nothing known. O, now, foreverFarewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content!Farewell the plumèd troops and the big warsThat makes ambition virtue! O, farewell!Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump,The spirit-stirring drum, th’ ear-piercing fife,The royal banner, and all quality,Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war!And O you mortal engines, whose rude throatsTh’ immortal Jove’s dread clamors counterfeit,Farewell! Othello’s occupation’s gone! | Othello in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 397- |
| I do not like the office,But sith I am entered in this cause so far,Pricked to ‘t by foolish honesty and love,I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately,And being troubled with a raging toothI could not sleep. There are a kind of menSo loose of soul that in their sleeps will mutterTheir affairs. One of this kind is Cassio.In sleep I heard him say “Sweet Desdemona,Let us be wary, let us hide our loves.”And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard,As if he plucked up kisses by the rootsThat grew upon my lips; then laid his legO’er my thigh, and sighed, and kissed, and thenCried “Cursèd fate that gave thee to the Moor!” | Iago in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 467- |
| [Person 1]: Never, Iago. Like to the Pontic Sea,Whose icy current and compulsive courseNe’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due onTo the Propontic and the Hellespont,Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent paceShall ne’er look back, ne’er ebb to humble love,Till that a capable and wide revengeSwallow them up. He kneels. Now by yond marbleheaven,In the due reverence of a sacred vow,I here engage my words.[Person 2]: Do not rise yet.[Person 2] kneels.Witness, you ever-burning lights above, | Othello (Person 1) and Iago (Person 2) in Act 3, Scene 3, Lines 514 |
| That’s a fault. That handkerchiefDid an Egyptian to my mother give.She was a charmer, and could almost readThe thoughts of people. She told her, while she keptit,’Twould make her amiable and subdue my fatherEntirely to her love. But if she lost it,Or made a gift of it, my father’s eyeShould hold her loathèd, and his spirits should huntAfter new fancies. She, dying, gave it me,And bid me, when my fate would have me wived,To give it her. I did so; and take heed on ‘t,Make it a darling like your precious eye.To lose ‘t or give ‘t away were such perditionAs nothing else could match. | Othello in Act 3, Scene 4, Lines 65- |
| I prithee do so. [Name Omitted] exits.Something, sure, of state,Either from Venice, or some unhatched practiceMade demonstrable here in Cyprus to him,Hath puddled his clear spirit; and in such casesMen’s natures wrangle with inferior things,Though great ones are their object. ‘Tis even so.For let our finger ache, and it enduesOur other healthful members even to a senseOf pain. Nay, we must think men are not gods,Nor of them look for such observancyAs fits the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia,I was—unhandsome warrior as I am!—Arraigning his unkindness with my soul.But now I find I had suborned the witness,And he’s indicted falsely. | Desdemona in Act 3, Scene 4, Lines 160- |
| But jealous souls will not be answered so.They are not ever jealous for the cause,But jealous for they’re jealous. It is a monsterBegot upon itself, born on itself. | Emilia in Act 3, Scene 4, Lines 180- |
| Lie with her? Lie on her? We say “lie on her”when they belie her. Lie with her—Zounds, that’sfulsome! Handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief.To confess and be hanged for his labor.First to be hanged and then to confess—I trembleat it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowingpassion without some instruction. It is notwords that shakes me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, andlips—is ‘t possible? Confess—handkerchief—O,devil![Name Omitted] falls in a trance. | Othello in Act 4, Scene 1, Lines 43- |
| [Person 1]Ay, you did wish that I would make her turn.Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,And turn again. And she can weep, sir, weep.And she’s obedient, as you say, obedient.Very obedient.—Proceed you in your tears.—Concerning this, sir—O, well-painted passion!—I am commanded home.—Get you away.I’ll send for you anon.—Sir, I obey the mandateAnd will return to Venice.—Hence, avaunt!Desdemona exits.Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonightI do entreat that we may sup together.You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. Goats andmonkeys![Name Omitted] exits.[Person 2]:Is this the noble Moor, whom our full senateCall all in all sufficient? Is this the natureWhom passion could not shake, whose solid virtueThe shot of accident nor dart of chanceCould neither graze nor pierce? | Othello in Act 4, Scene 1, Lines 284- |
| Yes, a dozen; and as many to th’ vantage aswould store the world they played for.But I do think it is their husbands’ faultsIf 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 knowTheir wives have sense like them. They see, andsmell,And have their palates both for sweet and sour,As husbands have. What is it that they doWhen they change us for others? 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. | Emilia in Act 4, Scene 3, Lines 95- |
| ‘Tis he! O brave Iago, honest and just,That hast such noble sense of thy friend’s wrong!Thou teachest me.—Minion, your dear lies dead,And your unblest fate hies. Strumpet, I come.Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, areblotted.Thy bed, lust-stained, shall with lust’s blood bespotted. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 1, Lines 34- |
| O damned Iago! O inhuman dog! | Roderigo in Act 5, Scene 1, Lines 74-Name not omitted for identification purposes. |
| [Person 1] to Bianca:What, look you pale?—O, bear him out o’ th’ air.Cassio, in the chair, and Roderigo are carried off.[Person 1] To Gratiano and Lodovico:Stay you, goodgentlemen.—Look you pale, mistress?—Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?—Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon.—Behold her well. I pray you, look upon her.Do you see, gentlemen? Nay, guiltiness will speakThough tongues were out of use. | Iago in Act 5, Scene 1, Lines 123- |
| It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul.Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars.It is the cause. 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 restoreShould I repent me. But once put out thy light,Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature,I know not where is that Promethean heatThat can thy light relume. When I have plucked therose,I cannot give it vital growth again.It needs must wither. I’ll smell it on the tree.O balmy breath, that dost almost persuadeJustice to break her sword! He kisses her. Onemore, one more.Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill theeAnd love thee after. One more, and this the last.He kisses her.So sweet was ne’er so fatal. I must weep,But they are cruel tears. This sorrow’s heavenly:It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 1- |
| Had all his hairs been lives, my great revengeHad stomach for them all. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 95- |
| The noise was here. Ha, no more moving?Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were ‘t good?I think she stirs again. No. What’s best to do?If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife.My wife, my wife! What wife? I have no wife.O insupportable! O heavy hour!Methinks it should be now a huge eclipseOf sun and moon, and that th’ affrighted globeShould yawn at alteration. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 117- |
| Cassio did top her. Ask thy husband else.O, I were damned beneath all depth in hellBut that I did proceed upon just groundsTo this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 167- |
| What needs this iterance, woman? I say, thyhusband. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 183- |
| [Person 1]:If he say so, may his pernicious soulRot half a grain a day! He lies to th’ heart!She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.[Name Omitted] draws his sword.[Person 2]:Hah?[Person 1]:Do thy worst!This deed of thine is no more worthy heavenThan thou wast worthy her.[Person 2]:Peace, you were best![Person 1]:Thou hast not half that power to do me harmAs I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt,As ignorant as dirt! Thou hast done a deed—I care not for thy sword. I’ll make thee known,Though I lost twenty lives. Help! Help, ho! Help!The Moor hath killed my mistress! Murder, murder! | Emilia (Person 1) and Othello (Person 2) in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 190- |
| Poor Desdemon, I am glad thy father’s dead.Thy match was mortal to him, and pure griefShore his old thread in twain. Did he live now,This sight would make him do a desperate turn,Yea, curse his better angel from his side,And fall to reprobance. | Gratiano in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 244- |
| I am not valiant neither,But every puny whipster gets my sword.But why should honor outlive honesty?Let it go all. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 191- |
| Behold, I have a weapon.A better never did itself sustainUpon a soldier’s thigh. I have seen the dayThat with this little arm and this good swordI have made my way through more impedimentsThan twenty times your stop. But—O vain boast!—Who can control his fate? ‘Tis not so now.Be not afraid, though you do see me weaponed.Here is my journey’s end, here is my buttAnd very sea-mark of my utmost sail.Do you go back dismayed? ‘Tis a lost fear.Man but a rush against Othello’s breast,And he retires. Where should Othello go? | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 310- |
| Demand me nothing. What you know, you know.From this time forth I never will speak word. | Iago in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 355 |
| Soft you. A word or two before you go.I have done the state some service, and theyknow ‘t.No more of that. I pray you in your letters,When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate,Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speakOf one that loved not wisely, but too well;Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought,Perplexed in the extreme; of one whose hand,Like the base Judean, threw a pearl awayRicher than all his tribe; of one whose subduedeyes,Albeit unused to the melting mood,Drops tears as fast as the Arabian treesTheir medicinable gum. Set you down this.And say besides, that in Aleppo once,Where a malignant and a turbanned TurkBeat a Venetian and traduced the state,I took by th’ throat the circumcisèd dog,And smote him, thus.He stabs himself. | Othello in Act 5, Scene 2, Lines 397 |
Important Passages in Othello
July 14, 2019