FIGHV

March 19, 2010 at 1:04am
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EMILIA
O thou dull Moor, that handkerchief thou speak’st of
I found by fortune, and did give my husband;
For often with a solemn earnestness-
More than indeed belonged to such a trifle-
He begged of me to steal’t.
IAGO
Villianous whore!

— OTHELLO V.II.226-231

1:02am
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DESDEMONA
Kill me tomorrow; let me live tonight!

— OTHELLO V.II.80

1:01am
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RODERIGO
O damned Iago! O Inhuman dog!

— OTHELLO V.I.62

12:58am
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DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA
Why, would not you?
DESDEMONA
No, by this heavenly light!
EMILIA
Nor I neither by this heavenly light.
I might do’t as well i’ th’ dark.
DESDEMONA
Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world?
EMILIA
The world’s a huge thing; it is a great price for a small vice.
DESDEMONA
In troth, I think thou wouldst not.
EMILIA
In troth, I think I should; and undo’t when I had done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a joint ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty exhibition; but, for all the whole world - ‘Ud’s pity! who would not make her husband a cuckold to make him a monarch? I should venture a purgatory for’t.

— OTHELLO IV.III.63-77

February 13, 2010 at 3:30pm
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February 10, 2010 at 11:55pm
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LAVATCH
I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire, and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But sure he is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in’s court; I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may, but the many will be too chill and tender, and they’ll be for the flowery way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire.

— ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL IV.5.47-54

January 13, 2010 at 7:53pm
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TROILUS
O beauty, where is thy faith?

— TROILUS & CRESSIDA V.II.67

7:50pm
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ACHILLES
My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirred,
And I myself see not the bottom of it.

— TROILUS & CRESSIDA IV.I.306-307

7:49pm
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PANDARUS
[Sings]
Love, love, nothing but love, still love, still more!
For, O, love’s bow shoots buck and doe.
The shaft confounds not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.
These lovers cry, O ho! they die!
Yet that which seems the wound to kill
Doth turn O ho! to Ha, ha, he!
So dying love lives still.

— TROILUS & CRESSIDA 111-118

7:44pm
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ULYSSES
Then everything include itself in power,
Power into will, will into appetite;
And appetite, an universal wolf.

— TROILUS & CRESSIDA I.III.119-121