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OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE



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Sinopse

SCENE I. Venice. A street. [Enter Roderigo and Iago.] RODERIGO Tush, never tell me; I take it much unkindly That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this,— IAGO 'Sblood, but you will not hear me:— If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. RODERIGO Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. IAGO Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, Off-capp'd to him:—and, by the faith of man, I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:— But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, Evades them, with a bumbast circumstance Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war: And, in conclusion, nonsuits My mediators: for, "Certes," says he, "I have already chose my officer." And what was he? Forsooth, a great arithmetician, One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; That never set a squadron in the field, Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, Wherein the toged consuls can propose As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice, Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election: And I,—of whom his eyes had seen the proof At Rhodes, at Cyprus, and on other grounds, Christian and heathen,—must be belee'd and calm'd By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster; He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, And I—God bless the mark! his Moorship's ancient.

Detalhes do Produto

    • Ano de Edição: 2015
    • Ano:  2015
    • País de Produção: Canada
    • Código de Barras:  2001116695621
    • ISBN:  9788893156028

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