Violent diction in Shakespeare's "Othello"

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

More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!

When violence assails us.

Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:

The rites for which I love him are bereft me,

I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

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.

Evades them, with a bombast circumstance

That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,

For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl:

That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.

Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul;

Much castigation, exercise devout;

The great contention of the sea and skies

To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity

Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service,

O she deceives me

For thus deluding you.

Despise me, if I do not.

Devour up my discourse: which I observing,

Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell

Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,

And this, and this, the greatest discords be

That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on;

Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle

For making him egregiously an ass

The execution of his wit, hands, heart,

So sweet was ne'er so fatal.

Of being taken by the insolent foe

When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice.

Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance

Impudent strumpet!

Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen,

From him that fled some strange indignity,

To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor --

Must be to loathe her.

It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect

Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come

Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk

Take up this mangled matter at the best:

Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio.

You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;

In opposition bloody.

Belief of it oppresses me already.

Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.

If he say so, may his pernicious soul

I'll pour this pestilence into his ear,

Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy,

Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards;

What profane wretch art thou?

He'll be as full of quarrel and offence

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.

Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true taste again but by the displanting of Cassio.

That commonly rebels.

We have your wrong rebuke.

Her will, recoiling to her better judgment,

Or put upon you what restraint and grievance

You rogue! you rascal!

Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight,

We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs;

From men of royal siege, and my demerits

Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one's own shadow?

To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.

Subdue him at his peril.

That my disports corrupt and taint my business,

The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks,

At blow and thrust; even as again they were

[Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches]

Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,

Look on the tragic loading of this bed;

O treacherous villains!

O treason of the blood!

For thy escape would teach me tyranny,

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

With any strong or vehement importunity;

Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!

Yet throw such changes of vexation on't,

I do confess the vices of my blood,

And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted.

My downright violence and storm of fortunes

O my fair warrior!