"Othello" by William Shakespeare, Act I

Othello, the Moor of Venice

If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me.

Evades them, with a bombast circumstance

Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;

As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise,

That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,

Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,

Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell

But, I beseech you,

To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor --

I thus would play and trifle with your reverence:

For thus deluding you.

To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity

I shall promulgate -- I fetch my life and being

Shall manifest me rightly.

'Tis probable and palpable to thinking.

By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant,

So may he with more facile question bear it,

By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;

Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself

Of being taken by the insolent foe

Othello, the fortitude of the place is best
known to you; and though we have there a substitute
of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a
sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer
voice on you: you must therefore be content to
slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this
more stubborn and boisterous expedition.

A natural and prompt alacrity

The rites for which I love him are bereft me,

In me defunct -- and proper satisfaction.

That my disports corrupt and taint my business,

If the balance of our lives had not one
scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us
to most preposterous conclusions: but we have
reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal
stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that
you call love to be a sect or scion.

Put money in thy
purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with
an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse.

She must
change for youth: when she is sated with his body,
she will find the error of her choice: she must
have change, she must: therefore put money in thy
purse.