Othello, the Moor of Venice

By: Shakespeare, William

RODERIGO.Tush, never tell me, I take it much unkindlyThat thou, Iago, who hast had my purse, As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.IAGO.'Sblood, but you will not hear me.If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.RODERIGO.Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.IAGO.Despise me if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp'd to him; and by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place.But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bombast circumstance, Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war: And in conclusion, Nonsuits my mediators: for "Certes," says he,"I have already chose my officer."And what was he?Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife, That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knowsMore than a spinster, unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can proposeAs masterly as he: mere prattle without practiceIs all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election, And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proofAt Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds, Christian and heathen, must be belee'd and calm'dBy debitor and creditor, this counter-caster, He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I, God bless the mark, his M

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: B08RR5FS19
• ISBN13: 9798588282185
• Release Date: January 1
• Publisher: Independently Published
• Length: 134 Pages
• Weight: 0.54 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.3" x 7.0" x 10.0"