Othello - Act 4

  • Created by: Nathalieb
  • Created on: 01-06-18 15:04
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  • Othello - Act 4
    • Bianca
      • Let the devil and his dam haunt you!
      • Some minx’s token
    • Lodovico
      • the nature Whom passion could not shake
    • Emilia
      • Never, my lord…Never…Never my lord
      • Hath she forsook so many noble matches, Her father, and her country, and her friends, To be called whore?
      • The Moor’s abused by some most villainous knave, Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow
      • 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
      • The world’s a huge thing: it is a great prize for a small vice
    • Desdemona
      • I have not deserved this
      • Your wife, my lord; your true and loyal wife
      • “D: Who is thy lord?E: He that is yours, sweet ladyD: I have none”
      • “D: To whom, my lord? With whom? How am I false?O: Ah, Desdemon, away, away, away!D: Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? If haply you my father do suspect An instrument of this your calling back Lay not your blame on me”
      • his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love
      • If I do die before thee, prithee shroud me In one of those same sheets
      • Sing willow, willow, willow
      • Mine eyes do itch; does that bode weeping?
      • Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong for the whole world
      • I will not stay to offend you
    • Othello
      • So, so, so, so; they laugh that win
      • How shall I murder him, Iago?
      • I Will chop her into messes – cuckold me!
      • O, she will sing the savageness out of a bear
      • “O: A fine woman, a fair woman, a sweet woman!I: May, you must forget thatO: Ay, let her rot, and perish”
      • my heart is turned to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand
      • Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile
      • Turn thy complexion there, Patient, thou young and rose-lipped cherubin, Ay, there, look grim as hell!
      • As summer flies are in the shambles, That quicken even with blowing.
      • I took you for that cunning whore of Venice That married with Othello
    • Iago
      • “I: But if I give my wife a handkerchief-O: What then?”
      • “I: Faith, that he did – I know not what he didO: What? What?I: Lie –O: With her?I: With her, on her; what you willO: Lie with her! Lie on her! We say ‘lie on her’, when they belie her. Lie with her: zounds, that’s fulsome! Handkerchief – confessions – handkerchief!”
      • Work on, My medicine, work!
        • Breaks out to savage madness
      • Ply Desdemona well
      • Strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated
      • Do not weep, do not weep
      • You are a fool


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