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Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service, Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just term am affined To love the Moor.
- IAGO,Act I. scene I We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
- IAGO,Act I. scene I
'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to do you service and you think we are ruffians
- IAGO,Act I. scene I
O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds By what you see them act
- BRABANTIO,Act I. scene I
Though in the trade of war I have slain men, Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience To do no contrived murder
- IAGO,Act I.SCENE II.
Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place And, till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, And she in mine.
- OTHELLO,Act I.SCENE III.
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:
- OTHELLO,Act I.SCENE III.
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
- DUKE OF VENICE,Act I.SCENE III.
Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence, Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers Into your favour. When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
- DUKE OF VENICE,Act I.SCENE III.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down
- OTHELLO,Act I.SCENE III.
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