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, abbhor me.
line from Othello, Act I, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
A Colloquial Reply: To Any Newsboy
If you lay for Iago at the stage door with a brick
You have missed the moral of the play.
He will have a midnight supper with Othello and his wife.
They will chirp together and be gay.
But the things Iago stands for must go down into the dust:
Lying and suspicion and conspiracy and lust.
And I cannot hate the Kaiser (I hope you understand.)
Yet I chase the thing he stands for with a brickbat in my hand.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Only Takes One To Do An 'Iago
Undermining has always been a trait,
Of those envious of others' deeds.
Conflicts have initiated over images raised.
Only to be replaced,
By mediocre initiatives.
And one with a taste to victimize with venom
It only takes one to do an 'Iago'.
You know
Othello's foe?
That legendary Moor,
In the military service of Venice.
Married to Desdemona,
And
The subject and tragic figure of Shakespeare's play.
That's all it takes!
An Iago who fakes a loyalty.
But has traitor on the mind,
And equipped to do it with lips.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Iago: Thus do I ever make my fool my purse.
For I mine own gained knowledge should profane
If I would time expend with such a snipe
But for my sport and profit.
line from Othello, Act I, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sonnet 11: As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest,
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this folly, age, and cold decay,
If all were minded so, the times should cease,
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom Nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;
Look whom she best endowed, she gave the more,
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby,
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Concerning Emperors
I. GOD SEND THE REGICIDE
Would that the lying rulers of the world
Were brought to block for tyrannies abhorred.
Would that the sword of Cromwell and the Lord,
The sword of Joshua and Gideon,
Hewed hip and thigh the hosts of Midian.
God send that ironside ere tomorrow's sun;
Let Gabriel and Michael with him ride.
God send the Regicide.
II. A COLLOQUIAL REPLY: TO ANY NEWSBOY
If you lay for Iago at the stage door with a brick
You have missed the moral of the play.
He will have a midnight supper with Othello and his wife.
They will chirp together and be gay.
But the things Iago stands for must go down into the dust:
Lying and suspicion and conspiracy and lust.
And I cannot hate the Kaiser (I hope you understand.)
Yet I chase the thing he stands for with a brickbat in my hand.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Iago: Men should be what they seem; or those that be not, would they might seem none!
line from Othello, Act III, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Roman Girl's Song
Rome, Rome! thou art no more
As thou hast been!
On thy seven hills of yore
Thou satst a queen.
Thou hadst thy triumphs then
Purpling the street,
Leaders and sceptred men
Bow'd at thy feet.
They that thy mantle wore,
As gods were seen–
Rome, Rome! thou art no more
As thou hast been!
Rome! thine imperial brow
Never shall rise:
What hast thou left thee now?
Thou hast thy skies!
Blue, deeply blue, they are,
Gloriously bright!
Veiling thy wastes afar
With colour'd light.
Thou hast the sunset's glow,
Rome, for thy dower,
Flushing tall cypress-bough,
Temple and tower!
And all sweet sounds are thine,
Lovely to hear,
While night, o'er tomb and shrine,
Rests darkly clear.
Many a solemn hymn,
By starlight sung,
Sweeps thro' the arches dim,
Thy wrecks among.
Many a flute's low swell,
On thy soft air
Lingers, and loves to dwell
With summer there.
Thou hast the South's rich gift
Of sudden song,
A charmed fountain, swift,
Joyous, and strong.
Thou hast fair forms that move
With queenly tread;
Thou hast proud fanes above
Thy mighty dead.
Yet wears thy Tiber's shore
A mournful mien:
Rome, Rome! thou art no more
As thou hast been!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scandalmonger
Good Morrow gossip art thou well?
Methinks thou hast some news to tell,
what scandal now has reached thine ears.
Must thou believe all that thou hears?
And must thou then embroider it
to make a tastier tidbit.
Thou spreadest rumour cheerfully
shouldst thou not tremble fearfully
Does not thy conscience bother thee.
Art thou so blind thou canst not see,
thy flapping tongue doth cause distress
to honest folk who are helpless.
Against thy tongue there’s no defence.
None can proclaim their innocence.
21-May-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Iago: But men are men; the best sometimes forget.
line from Othello, Act II, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A character I would love to play is Iago, from Othello.
quote by Tim Roth
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beauty's Metempsychosis
That beauty such as thine
Can die indeed,
Were ordinance too wantonly malign:
No wit may reconcile so cold a creed
With beauty such as thine.
From wave and star and flower
Some effluence rare
Was lent thee, a divine but transient dower:
Thou yield'st it back from eyes and lips and hair
To wave and star and flower.
Shouldst thou to-morrow die,
Thou still shalt be
Found in the rose and met in all the sky:
And from the ocean's heart shalt sing to me,
Shouldst thou to-morrow die.
poem by William Watson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Iago: Do it not with poison. Strangle her in her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated.
line from Othello, Act IV, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Iago: Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
line from Othello, Act II, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Iago: Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
line from Othello by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Iago: Virtue? A fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.
line from Othello, Act I, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Beauteous Individuality
Thou in truth shouldst be one, yet not with the whole shouldst thou be so.
'Tis through the reason thou'rt one,--art so with it through the heart.
Voice of the whole is thy reason, but thou thine own heart must be ever;
If in thy heart reason dwells evermore, happy art thou.
poem by Friedrich Schiller
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In San Lorenzo
Is thine hour come to wake, O slumbering Night?
Hath not the Dawn a message in thine ear?
Though thou be stone and sleep, yet shalt thou hear
When the word falls from heaven--Let there be light.
Thou knowest we would not do thee the despite
To wake thee while the old sorrow and shame were near;
We spake not loud for thy sake, and for fear
Lest thou shouldst lose the rest that was thy right,
The blessing given thee that was thine alone,
The happiness to sleep and to be stone:
Nay, we kept silence of thee for thy sake
Albeit we knew thee alive, and left with thee
The great good gift to feel not nor to see;
But will not yet thine Angel bid thee wake?
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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I'd like to do more Shakespeare. I'd like to do Iago in Othello. I look so benign. It would be interesting to see that black evil come out of my soul.
quote by Kyle MacLachlan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Agassiz
I stand again on the familiar shore,
And hear the waves of the distracted sea
Piteously calling and lamenting thee,
And waiting restless at thy cottage door.
The rocks, the sea-weed on the ocean floor,
The willows in the meadow, and the free
Wild winds of the Atlantic welcome me;
Then why shouldst thou be dead, and come no more?
Ah, why shouldst thou be dead, when common men
Are busy with their trivial affairs,
Having and holding? Why, when thou hadst read
Nature's mysterious manuscript, and then
Wast ready to reveal the truth it bears,
Why art thou silent! Why shouldst thou be dead?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Iago: Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving.
line from Othello, II, 3, script by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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