Term
| Iago (speaking of the handkerchief) |
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Definition
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.
(3.3.322) |
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oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not
(3.3.147) |
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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock
That meat it feeds on.
(3.3.165) |
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Despise me if I do not: three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capped to him; and by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.
(1.1.8) |
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I hate the Moor,
And it is thought abroad that 'twixt my sheets
He's done my office. I know not if't be true
Yet I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do as if for surety.
(1.3.386-90) |
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Now, I do love her too,
Not out of absolute lust--though peradventure
I stand accountant for as great a sin--
But partly led to diet my revenge,
For that I do suspect the lusty Moor
Hath heaped into my seat, the thought whereof
Doth like poisonous mineral gnaw my inwards;
And nothing can or shall contend my soul
Till I am evened with him, wife for wife.
(2.1.286) |
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Though I do hate him as I do hell's pains,
Yet, for necessity of present life,
I must show out a flag and sign of love
(1.1.154) |
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Definition
I am not what I am
(1.1.65) |
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Virtue? A fig! Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus.
Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners
(1.3.319) |
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Definition
If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions. but we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I call this, that you call love, to be a sect or scion.
(1.3.319) |
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Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!
(2.3.265) |
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Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving.
(2.3.265) |
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But I do think it is their husbands' 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
...
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.
(4.3.75) |
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Definition
So will I turn her virtue into pitch,
And out of her goodness make the net
That shall enmesh them all.
(2.3.325) |
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Ha! I like not that.
(3.3.35) |
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Demand me nothing; what you know, you know.
From this time forth I will never speak a word.
(5.2.304) |
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Perdition catch my soul,
But I do love thee. And when I love thee not,
Chaos is come again!
(3.3.90) |
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Definition
Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore;
Be sure of it. Give me the ocular proof,
Or by the worth of mine eternal soul,
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog
Than answer my waked wrath!
(3.3.360) |
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If thou dost slander her and torture me,
Never pray more; abandon all remorse;
On horror's head horrors accumulate;
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed:
For nothing canst thou damnation add
Greater than that.
(3.3.372) |
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O, tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock,
To lip a wanton in a secure couch
And to suppose her chaste!
(4.1.70) |
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Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now?
(4.1.148) |
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I cry you mercy then:
I took you for that cunning whore of Venice
That married with Othello. You, mistress,
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter,
And keeps the gate of hell! You, you, ay, you!
(4.2.90) |
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It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul:
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars.
It is the cause.
(5.2.1) |
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I will not kill thy unprepared spirit;
No - Heaven forfend! - I would not kill thy soul.
(5.2.32) |
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She's like a liar gone to burning hell.
(5.2.131) |
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Then you must speak
Of 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 away
Richer than all his tribe. |
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