1 Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
2 Most grave Brabantio, In simple and pure soul I come to you.
3 These fellows have some soul, And such a one do I profess myself.
4 My parts, my title, and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly.
5 Sweet soul, take heed, take heed of perjury, Thou'rt on thy death-bed.
6 You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie; a wicked lie.
7 There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.
8 She lov'd thee, cruel Moor, So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; So speaking as I think, I die, I die.
9 I saw Othello's visage in his mind, And to his honours and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
10 I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, Remove your thought, it doth abuse your bosom.
11 Give me the ocular proof, Or, by the worth of man's eternal soul, Thou hadst been better have been born a dog Than answer my wak'd wrath.
12 To be once in doubt Is once to be resolv'd: exchange me for a goat When I shall turn the business of my soul To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, Matching thy inference.
13 Zounds, sir, you're robb'd, for shame put on your gown, Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping your white ewe.
14 And then for her To win the Moor, were't to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, His soul is so enfetter'd to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function.
15 The thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards, And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife, Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgement cannot cure.
16 Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction, had they rain'd All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head, Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience.
17 For I do know the state, However this may gall him with some check, Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, Another of his fathom they have none To lead their business.
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