Shakespearean Tragedies

"Your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs."

"Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them."

"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 offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace: For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration and what mighty magic, For such proceeding I am charged withal, I won his daughter."

"Her father loved me; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have passed. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance in my travels' history: Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven It was my hint to speak,--such was the process; And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house-affairs would draw her thence: Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively: I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange, '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 loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used: Here comes the lady; let her witness it."

"That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord:"

"But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow."

"The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief."

"Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: She has deceived her father, and may thee."

"Thus do I ever make my fool my purse."

"I hate the Moor; And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets He 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."

"The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are."

"If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!"

"She never yet was foolish that was fair; For even her folly help'd her to an heir."

"Knavery's plain face is never seen till us'd."

"Now, by heaven, My blood begins my safer guides to rule; And passion, having my best judgment collied, Assays to lead the way. 'Zounds, if I stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know How this foul rout began, who set it on; And he that is approv'd in this offence, Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, To manage private and domestic quarrel? In night, and on the court and guard of safety? 'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't?"

"But men are men; the best sometimes forget:"

"Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving."

"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 course To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy The inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor — were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly 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 fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes 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 net That shall enmesh them all."

"Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go, vanish into air, away!"

"Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee; and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again."

"Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!"

"Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; ’Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed."

"O! beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster which doth mock The meat it feeds on."

"Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt, Is once to be resolved."

"She did deceive her father, marrying you; And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks She lov'd them most."

"Othello: I do not think but Desdemona's honest. Iago: Long live she so, and long live you to think so! Othello: And, yet, how nature erring from itself,— Iago: Ay, there's the point."

"If she be false, O! then heaven mocks itself. I'll not believe't."

"O! now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind; farewell content!"

"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 wak'd wrath."

"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes: — Open, locks, Whoever knocks!"

"Benvolio: What, art thou hurt? Mercutio: Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough."

"Romeo: Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses!"

"Mercutio: Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Romeo: I thought all for the best. Mercutio: Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses!"

"This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman: O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!"

"O, I am fortune's fool!"

"Lady Capulet: I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. Prince: Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? Montague: Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; His fault concludes but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt. Prince: And for that offence Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the loss of mine: I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. Bear hence this body, and attend our will: Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill."

"For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back."

"Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of Heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun."

"So tedious is this day As is the night before some festival To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not wear them."

"Every tongue that speaks But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence."

"O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign, end motion here, And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier!"

"O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! ... A damned saint, an honourable villain!"

"O, that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous palace!"

"There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all are perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers."

"He was not born to shame: Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd Sole monarch of the universal earth."

"Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity."

"O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!"

"They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand."

"'Banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell; Howling attends it: how hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?"

"Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy."