« VorigeDoorgaan »
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart?
REFLECTIONS ON LIFE.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle; Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.————
'Tis the curse of service;
Preferment goes by letter, and affection,
IAGO'S DISPRAISE OF HONESTY.
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, For nought but provender: and, when he's old, cashier'd:
Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;
And such a one do I profess myself.
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
LOVE, OTHELLO'S SOLE MOTIVE FOR MARRYING.
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
OTHELLO'S DESCRIPTION TO THE SENATE OF HIS WINNING THE AFFECTIONS OF DESDEMONA.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd 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 offending
* Outward show of civility.
Hath this extent, no more.
Rude am I in my
And little bless'd with the set phrase of
In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
[charms, Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what What conjurations, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal) I won his daughter with.
Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life,
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes,
I ran it through, even from my boyish days,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
These things to hear,
Would Desdemona seriously incline:
But still the house affairs would draw her thence; Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
* Best exertion.
+ My behaviour.
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
And often did beguile her of her tears,
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful:
She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me;
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
+ Intention and attention were once synonymous.
That not another comfort like to this
A LOVER'S EXCLAMATION.
Farewell, my Desdemona: I will come to thee
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul,
As if there were some monster in his thought
I heard thee say but now,-Thou lik'dst not that,
Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,
Iago. My lord, you know I love you.
Oth. I think, thou dost; And, for I know thou art full of love and honesty, And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them breath,