She that was ever fair & never proud
Had tongue at will & yet was never loud:
Never lackt gold & yet went never gay
Fled from her wish & yet said now I may.
She that being angred, her revenge being nigh
Bad her wrong stay & her displeasure fly.
She that could think & not disclose her mind
See suitors following & not look behind.
By Iago,
in Othello (TLN923-932),
William Shakespeare
in Bodleian Library MS English miscellaneous c. 34, f. 60
Women’s Unknown Vertues
She, yt was ever fair, & never proud;
Had Tongue at Will, & yet was never loud;
Never lackt Gold, & yet went never gay;
Fled frō her Wish, wn she said, Now I may:
She yt being angred, & Revenge being nigh,
Bad her Wrong, Stay, & her Displeasure, Fly:
She, yt could think, & ne’r disclose her Mind;
See Suitors following, & not look behind:
She were a Wight, (if ever such Wights were) -------
By Iago,
in Othello (TLN923-933),
William Shakespeare
in Bodleian Library MS Sancroft 53, f.43
some seruants there are | who trimd in formes and visages of duty, keepe yet their hearts
attending on themselues, | throwing but shewes of seruice on their Lords.
By Iago,
in Othello (TLN53-56),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 83v
If it were now to die, | twere now to bee most happy, for I feare | my soule hath her CONtent soe absolute, | yt not another comfort like to this | succeeds in vnknowne fate.
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN967-971),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 83v
There's noe delight to bee married to an vnhansome woman. How when ye blood is made dull & ye act of sport, there should bee a game to inflame it, and giue society a fresh appetite
By Iago,
in Othello (TLN1009-1011),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84r
Tis not to make ouer iealous, | to say my wife is faire, feedes well, loues company, tis free of speechs, sings, plaies, and dances well; where vertue is, these are more vertuous
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN1799-1802),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84r
.O curse of marriage, | yt wee can call these delicate creatures ours, | and not their appetites: I had rather bee a toade,| and liue vpon ye vapor in a dungeon | then keepe a corner of a thing I loue | for others vses.
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN1899-1904),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84r
poisons are at ye first scarre sound to distast, | but wth a little act vpon ye blood|
burne like ye mines of sulhm looke where hee comes,
not popy, nor mandragora, | nor all ye drousy sicrops of ye world| shall euer medicine thee to yt sweet sleepe, |
wth thou owedst yesterday.
By Iago,
in Othello (TLN1966-1974),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84r
yt argues fruitfullness and ouerall leant, | hot, hot, and moist, this hand of yours requires| a sequester from liberty: fasting and praying, | much castigation, exercise deuout tis most veritable-he, tone,
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN2181-2184),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84r
It is ye cause, it is ye cause my soule, | let mee not name it to you, you chast starrs: | it is ye cause, yet Ile not shed her blood, | now skarce yt whiter skin of hers then snow, | and smooth as monumentall alabaster,| yet shee must die else sheel betray more men, | put out yt light, and then put cut yt light:| If I quench then, thou fleming minister, | I can againe thy former light restore |
should I repent mee; but once put out thine, | thou cunningst patterne of excelling nature, | I
know not where is yt Promethean heat, | yt can thy light relumine: when I haue pluckt ye rose/
I cannot giue it vitall growth againe, | it needs must tither: | Ile smel it on yt tree. (kisses her)
a balmy breath, yt doth allmost suade | instice herselfe to breake her sword: one more; | bee thus
when thou art dead, and I will kill thee| and loue thee after: one more, and this ye last. | soe
sweet was nere soe fat all: I must weepe, | but they are cruel teares: this sorrowes heauenly,
It strikes where it does loue
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN3240-3262),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84v
Bee hold I haue a weapon, | a better neuer did it selfe sustaine | vpon a souldiers thight: I haue seene
ye day, | [that] [with] this little arme and this good sword, BR note ***: The c below in control is inverted. Not sure how to show that. | I haue made my way through more impediments |
then twenty times [that] stop: but o vaine boast; | who can ctroule his fate? tis not soe now. |
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN3559-3565),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84v
bee not afraid though you doe see mee weapond; | here is my iourneys end, here is my butte, |
[that] very sea-marke of my vtmost saile. | doe you goe barke dismaide? tis a lost teare, |
man but a rush against O thers brest, | and hee retires. Where should Othello goe ?| how doest thou looke now? Ô| illstand weach ,|pale as thy smocke; when wee shall meet at compts
[that] looke of thine will hucle my soule from heauen, | and feinds doll shall snatch at it: cold,
wash mee in steepe downe gulphs of liquid fire: O Desdemona, Desdemona; dead, O, O, O,.
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN3559-3581),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84v
I haue done [the] state some seruice, and they know it: | noe more of [that]: I pray you in your letters, | when
you shall these vnlucky deeds relate; | speake of mee as I am, nothing exceriuast, | now set downe ought in malice:
then you must speake, | of one [that] loued not wisely, but too well: | of one not easily iealous, but beeing
wrought, | pplext in [the] extreames: of one whose hand, | like [the] base Indian threes a pearle away /
richer then all his tribe: of one whose subdued eyes | allbeeit vnvsed to [the] melting mood | drop teares
as fast as [the] Arabian trees | their medicinall gum: set| you downe this; | and say beesides [that] in
Aleppo cure, | where a malignant and a - yurband - Turkes | beate a Venetian, and traducd [the]
stake; | I tooke by' th' throat [the] circumcised dog, | and smote him thus. (stabs himselfe.)
By Othello,
in Othello (TLN3648-3668),
William Shakespeare
in British Library Additional MS 22608, f. 84v