Othello Quotes

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

For she had eyes and chose me.

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.

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

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.(Iago, Act II, scene iii)

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeveFor daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

I would not put a thief in my mouth to steal my brains.

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 nameRobs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd,And I lov'd her that she did pity them.

How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Iago

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mockThe meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'erWho dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!(Act 3, scene 3, 165–171)

Men should be what they seem.

Tis within ourselves that we are thus or thus.

Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.

Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace.

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

I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.

I hold my peace, sir? no;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.

And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

So will I turn her virtue into pitch,And out of her own goodness make the netThat shall enmesh them all.

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

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. . .

Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.

And what’s he then that says I play the villain?

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.

This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.

O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!" - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.

I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughterand the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.

I understand a fury in your wordsBut not your words.

Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up tine, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.

They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.

Come, be a man. Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies!

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, but seeming so, for my peculiar end: for when my outward action doth demonstrate the native act and figure of my heart in compliment extern, 'tis not long after but I will wear my heart upon my sleeve for daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.

Put money in thy purse.

I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

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.

Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.

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

I can again thy former light restore,Should 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.

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought

Have not we affections and desires for sport, and frailty, as men have?

If it were now to die,'Twere now to be most happy, for I fearMy soul hath her content so absoluteThat no other comfort, like to thisSucceeds in unknown fate

I am glad I have found this napkin.This was her first remembrance from the Moor,My wayward husband hath a hundred timesWooed me to steal it, but she so loves the token— For he conjured her she should ever keep it— That she reserves it evermore about herTo kiss and talk to. I’ll ha’ the work ta’en out,And give’t Iago. What he will do with it,Heaven knows, not I.I nothing, but to please his fantasy.