Cassio Quotes

I wish it didn’t have to hurt you,” she says. “Do you?” “Of course. Believe me, Cassio. I never wanted to be this tragic.

O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!" - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)

Cassio,” she whispers. “Get me out of here.

… you’ll need some help getting acquainted. I’m Carmel Jones.” “Theseus Cassio Lowood. What kind of a parent names their kid Carmel?” She laughs. “What kind of a parent names their kid Theseus Cassio?” “Hippies,” I reply. “Exactly.

Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.

Girls, on the other hand, have always come easy. I don't know why that is, exactly. Maybe it's the outsider vibe and a well-placed brooding look. Maybe it's something I think I see sometimes in the mirror, something that reminds me of my father. Or maybe I'm just damn easy on the eyes.

CASSIO: Dost thou hear, my honest friend? CLOWN: No, I hear not your honest friend, I hear you. CASSIO: Prithee, keep up thy quillets.

Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune, And sweet revenge grows harsh. DESDEMONA O, falsely, falsely murder'd!

You must forsake this room, and go with us: Your power and your command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,— If there be any cunning cruelty That can torment him much and

How am I, then, a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now: for whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear,— That she repeals him for her body’s lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch; And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio’s death, The noise was high. Ha! No more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were ’t good? I think she stirs again—No. What’s best to do? If she come in, she’ll sure speak to my wife— My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. Oh, insupportable! Oh, heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that th' affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.

E Shakespeare non si è mai sbagliato tanto come quando fece dire a Cassio “La colpa, caro Bruto, non è nelle nostre stelle / ma in noi stessi.” Facile a dirsi quando si è un romano patrizio (o Shakespeare!), ma c’è invece colpa in abbondanza da trovare nelle nostre stelle.

He went crazy over Greek mythology, which is where I got my name. They compromised on it, because my mom loved Shakespeare, and I ended up called Theseus Cassio. Theseus for the slayer of the Minotaur, and Cassio for Othello's doomed lieutenant. I think it sounds straight-up stupid. Theseus Cassio Lowood. Everyone just calls me Cas. I suppose I should be glad--my dad also loved Norse mythology, so I might have wound up being called Thor, which would have been basically unbearable.

O, she was foul!— I scarce did know you, uncle; there lies your niece, Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: I know this act shows horrible and grim. GRATIANO Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead: Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, This sight would make him do a desperate turn, Yea, curse his better angel from his side, And fall to reprobance. OTHELLO 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath

What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? CASSIO I know not. IAGO Is't possible?

CASSIO I do attend here on the general; And think it no addition, nor my wish, To have him see me woman'd.

Cassio is a ladies’ man, that is to say, a man who feels most at home in feminine company where his looks and good manners make him popular, but is ill at ease in the company of his own sex because he is unsure of his own masculinity. […] Cassio is a ladies’ man, not a seducer. With women of his own class, what he enjoys is socialized eroticism; he would be frightened of a serious personal passion. For physical sex he goes to prostitutes and when, unexpectedly, Bianca falls in love with him, like many of his kind, he behaves like a cad and brags of his conquest to others.

Coleridge’s description of Iago’s actions as "motiveless malignancy" applies in some degree to all the Shakespearian villains. The adjective motiveless means, firstly, that the tangible gains, if any, are clearly not the principal motive, and, secondly, that the motive is not the desire for personal revenge upon another for a personal injury. Iago himself proffers two reasons for wishing to injure Othello and Cassio. He tells Roderigo that, in appointing Cassio to be his lieutenant, Othello has treated him unjustly, in which conversation he talks like the conventional Elizabethan malcontent. In his soliloquies with himself, he refers to his suspicion that both Othello and Cassio have made him a cuckold, and here he talks like the conventional jealous husband who desires revenge. But there are, I believe, insuperable objections to taking these reasons, as some critics have done, at their face value.

As for Iago’s jealousy, one cannot believe that a seriously jealous man could behave towards his wife as Iago behaves towards Emilia, for the wife of a jealous husband is the first person to suffer. Not only is the relation of Iago and Emilia, as we see it on stage, without emotional tension, but also Emilia openly refers to a rumor of her infidelity as something already disposed of. Some such squire it was That turned your wit, the seamy side without And made you to suspect me with the Moor. At one point Iago states that, in order to revenge himself on Othello, he will not rest till he is even with him, wife for wife, but, in the play, no attempt at Desdemona’s seduction is made. Iago does not encourage Cassio to make one, and he even prevents Roderigo from getting anywhere near her. Finally, one who seriously desires personal revenge desires to reveal himself. The revenger’s greatest satisfaction is to be able to tell his victim to his face – "You thought you were all-powerful and untouchable and could injure me with impunity. Now you see that you were wrong. Perhaps you have forgotten what you did; let me have the pleasure of reminding you." When at the end of the play, Othello asks Iago in bewilderment why he has thus ensnared his soul and body, if his real motive were revenge for having been cuckolded or unjustly denied promotion, he could have said so, instead of refusing to explain.

Everybody must pity Desdemona, but I cannot bring myself to like her. Her determination to marry Othello – it was she who virtually did the proposing – seems the romantic crush of a silly schoolgirl rather than a mature affection; it is Othello’s adventures, so unlike the civilian life she knows, which captivate her rather than Othello as a person. He may not have practiced witchcraft, but, in fact, she is spellbound. Then, she seems more aware than is agreeable of the honor she has done Othello by becoming his wife. […] Before Cassio speaks to her, she has already discussed him with her husband and learned that he is to be reinstated as soon as it is opportune. A sensible wife would have told Cassio this and left matters alone. In continuing to badger Othello, she betrays a desire to prove to herself and to Cassio that she can make her husband do as she pleases. […] Though her relationship with Cassio is perfectly innocent, one cannot but share Iago’s doubts as to the durability of the marriage. It is worth noting that, in the willow-song scene with Emilia, she speaks with admiration of Ludovico and then turns to the topic of adultery. Of course, she discusses this in general terms and is shocked by Emilia’s attitude, but she does discuss the subject and she does listen to what Emilia has to say about husbands and wives. It is as if she had suddenly realized that she had made a mésalliance and that the sort of man she ought to have married was someone of her own class and color like Ludovico. Given a few more years of Othello and of Emilia’s influence and she might well, one feels, have taken a lover.

«Quell' anima là sù c'ha maggior pena», disse 'l maestro, «è Giuda Scariotto, che 'l capo ha dentro e fuor le gambe mena. De li altri due c'hanno il capo di sotto, quel che pende dal nero ceffo è Bruto: vedi come si storce, e non fa motto!; e l'altro è Cassio, che par sì membruto. Ma la notte risurge, e oramai è da partir, ché tutto avem veduto».

And have you mercy too! I never did Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love: I never gave him token. OTHELLO By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand, O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart, And makes me call what I intend to do A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: I saw the handkerchief.

Go to woman! / Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth from / whence you have them.

When I’m given a role, the first thing I do is read the play over and over again. I scour the script and write down everything the character says about himself and everything that everyone else says about him. I immerse myself in my character and imagine what it might be like to be that person. When I played Cassio in Othello I imagined what it would be like to be a lieutenant in the Venetian navy in 1604. I sat down with Ewan McGregor and Chiwetel Ejiofor and together we decided that Othello, Iago and Cassio had soldiery in their bones. I took from the script that Cassio was talented and ambitious, with no emotional or physical guard - and that’s how I played the part. For me, acting is about recreating the circumstances that would make me feel how my character is feeling. In the dressing room, I practise recreating those circumstances in my head and I try to not get in the way of myself. For example, in act two of Othello, when Cassio is manipulated to fight Roderigo and loses his rank, some nights I would burst into tears; other nights I wouldn’t but I would still feel the same emotion, night after night. Just as in life, the way we respond to catastrophe or death will be different every time because the process is unconscious. By comparison, in Chekhov’s Ivanov I played the young doctor, Lvov. Lvov was described as “a prig and a bigot … uprightness in boots … tiresome … completely sincere”. His emotions were locked away. I worked around the key phrase: “Forgive me, I’m going to tell you plainly.” I practised speaking gravely and sincerely without emotion and I actually noticed how that carried over into my personal life: when I played the open-hearted Cassio, I felt really free; when I played the pent-up Lvov, I felt a real need to release myself from the shackles of that character. It’s exhilarating to act out the emotions of a character - it’s a bit like being a child again. You flex the same muscles that you did when you pretended to be a cowboy or a policeman: acting is a grown-up version of that with more subtlety and detail. You’re responding with real emotions to imaginary situations. When I’m in a production I never have a day when I haven’t laughed, cried or screamed. There are times when I wake up stiff from emotional exhaustion. Film is a much more intimate and thoughtful medium than theatre because of the proximity of the camera. The camera can read your thoughts. On stage, if you have a moment of vulnerability you can hide it from the other actors; on film, the camera will see you feel that emotion and try to suppress it. Similarly, if you’re pretending to feel something that isn’t there, it won’t be believable.

I hate the Moor: And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets He has done my office: I know not if't be true; But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety. He holds me well; The better shall my purpose work on him. Cassio's a proper man: let me see now: To get his place and to plume up my will In double knavery—How, how? Let's see:— After some time, to abuse Othello's ear That he is too familiar with his wife. He hath a person and a smooth dispose To be suspected, framed to make women false. The Moor is of a free and open nature, That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, And will as tenderly be led by the nose As asses are. I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.

[Talking about Othello] His dying words are about the service he has done to the state -not what he has done to Desdemona. (...) He acknowledges not love but the power structure (...). Othello believes his fellow officer [Iago] rather than his wife, believes death is suitable punishment for infidelity (...). It makes me uneasy that we so easily state that Othello is a play about race. Race is one of its ingredients, but the most pervasive subject that Shakespeare is tackling is sexism. The two women [Desdemona and Emilia, Iago's wife] end up dead. Bianca, the third woman in the play, Cassio's mistress, ends up in jail for something she never did, and nobody bothers to get her out. Iago, the symbol of evil, remains alive. Brabantio, Desdemona's father, dies of a broken heart because of his daughter's disobedience. And everyone is very regretful about what has happened. But no one, other than Emilia, has pointed out that there is a terrible double standard, something rotten in the system itself.

Karen, the Carpenter Ant Queen (Elite)

Oh, not tonight, good Iago,” said Cassio. “I have poor and unhappy brains for drinking. I wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.

Just now the Joint Chiefs of the Empire’s military were gathered—Admiral Antonio Motti, General Cassio Tagge, Rear Admirals Ozzel, Jerjerrod, and others—along with several top officers from COMPNOR, including Director Armand Isard, ISB deputy director Harus Ison, and Colonel Wullf Yularen. Naval Intelligence was represented by Vice Admirals Rancit and Screed,

With a little a web as this I will ensnare as great a fly as Cassio

J'aurais autant de bouches que l'Hydre, qu'une telle réponse me les fermerait toutes... (Cassio, Acte II, Scène III)

It has been a whole day since I had my lunch with Cassio. Surprisingly, it was pleasant and arousing.

Iago: Why then, I think Cassio’s an honest man. Othello: Nay, yet there’s more in this. I prithee speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. Iago: Good my lord, pardon me. Though I am bound to every act of duty, I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false— As where’s that palace whereinto foul things Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so pure But some uncleanly apprehensions Keep leets and law days and in sessions sit With meditations lawful? [...]I do beseech you, Though I perchance am vicious in my guess— As, I confess, it is my nature’s plague To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy Shapes faults that are not—that your wisdom From one that so imperfectly conceits Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance. It were not for your quiet nor your good, Nor for my manhood, honesty, and wisdom, To let you know my thoughts.

Iago: That Cassio loves her, I do well believe ’t. That she loves him, ’tis apt and of great credit. The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, And I dare think he’ll prove to Desdemona A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too, Not out of absolute lust (though peradventure I stand accountant for as great a sin) But partly led to diet my revenge For that I do suspect the lusty Moor Hath leaped into my seat—the thought whereof Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards, And nothing can or shall content my soul Till I am evened with him, wife for wife, Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor At least into a jealousy so strong That judgment cannot cure.

Cassio: Welcome, Iago. We must to the watch. Iago: Not this hour, lieutenant. ’Tis not yet ten o’ th’ clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love of his Desdemona—who let us not therefore blame; he hath not yet made wanton the night with her, and she is sport for Jove. Cassio: She’s a most exquisite lady. Iago: And, I’ll warrant her, full of game. Cassio: Indeed, she’s a most fresh and delicate creature. Iago: What an eye she has! Methinks it sounds a parley to provocation. Cassio: An inviting eye, and yet methinks right modest. Iago: And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? Cassio: She is indeed perfection. Iago: Well, happiness to their sheets!

Cassio: Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! Iago: As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily wound. There is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving. You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.

Iago: And what’s he, then, that says I play the villain, When this advice is free I give and honest, Probal to thinking, and indeed the course To win the Moor again? For ’tis most easy Th’ inclining Desdemona to subdue In any honest suit. She’s framed as fruitful As the free elements. And then for her To win the Moor—were ’t to renounce his baptism, All seals and symbols of redeemèd sin— His soul is so enfettered to her love That she may make, unmake, do what she list, Even as her appetite shall play the god With his weak function. How am I then a villain To counsel Cassio to this parallel course Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! When devils will the blackest sins put on, They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, As I do now. For whiles this honest fool Plies Desdemona to repair his fortune, And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, I’ll pour this pestilence into his ear: That she repeals him for her body’s lust; And by how much she strives to do him good, She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.

(Iago:) There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs: One of this kind is Cassio: In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona, Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;' And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard, As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!

Iago: [Returning] My lord, I would I might entreat your honour To scan this thing no further; leave it to time: Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, For sure, he fills it up with great ability, Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, You shall by that perceive him and his means: Note, if your lady strain his entertainment With any strong or vehement importunity; Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, Let me be thought too busy in my fears-- As worthy cause I have to fear I am-- And hold her free, I do beseech your honour Othello: Fear not my government! Iago: I once more take my leave.

Desdemona: Do not doubt that. Before Emilia here, I give thee warrant of thy place. Assure thee, If I do vow a friendship, I’ll perform it To the last article. My lord shall never rest: I’ll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; I’ll intermingle everything he does With Cassio’s suit. Therefore be merry, Cassio, For thy solicitor shall rather die Than give thy cause away.

Desdemona: Why then tomorrow night, or Tuesday morn, On Tuesday noon or night; on Wednesday morn. I prithee name the time, but let it not Exceed three days. In faith, he’s penitent; And yet his trespass, in our common reason— Save that, they say, the wars must make example Out of her best—is not almost a fault T’ incur a private check. When shall he come? Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul What you would ask me that I should deny, Or stand so mamm’ring on? What? Michael Cassio, That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time, When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, Hath ta’en your part—to have so much to do To bring him in! By ’r Lady, I could do much— Othello: Prithee, no more. Let him come when he will; I will deny thee nothing. Desdemona: Why, this is not a boon! ’Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit To your own person. Nay, when I have a suit Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, It shall be full of poise and difficult weight, And fearful to be granted. Othello: I will deny thee nothing! Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, To leave me but a little to myself.

Othello: Why of thy thought, Iago? Iago: I did not think he had been acquainted with her. Othello: O yes, and went between us very oft. Iago: Indeed? Othello: Indeed? Ay, indeed! Discern’st thou aught in that? Is he not honest? Iago: Honest, my lord? Othello: Honest—ay, honest. Iago: My lord, for aught I know. Othello: What dost thou think? Iago: Think, my lord? Othello: “Think, my lord?” By heaven, thou echo’st me As if there were some monster in thy thought Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something. I heard thee say even now, thou lik’st not that, When Cassio left my wife. What didst not like? And when I told thee he was of my counsel In my whole course of wooing, thou cried’st “Indeed?” And didst contract and purse thy brow together As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain Some horrible conceit. If thou dost love me, Show me thy thought.

Othello: Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives. Desdemona: Come, come; You'll never meet a more sufficient man. Othello: The handkerchief! Desdemona: I pray, talk me of Cassio. Othello: The handkerchief! Desdemona: A man that all his time Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, Shared dangers with you,-- Othello: The handkerchief! Desdemona: In sooth, you are to blame. Othello: Away! (Exits)

Othello: Hath he [Cassio] said anything? Iago: He hath, my lord, but be you well assured, No more than he’ll unswear. Othello: What hath he said? Iago: Faith, that he did—I know not what he did. Othello: What? What? Iago: Lie — Othello: With her? Iago: With her — on her — what you will. Othello: Lie with her? Lie on her? We say “lie on her” when they belie her. Lie with her—Zounds, that’s fulsome! Handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief. To confess and be hanged for his labor. First to be hanged and then to confess—I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not words that shakes me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips—is ’t possible? Confess—handkerchief—O, devil! (cf. Act 3 Scene 4: Desdemona: Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? Clown: I dare not say he lies anywhere. Desdemona: Why, man? Clown: He’s a soldier, and for me to say a soldier lies, ’tis stabbing.)

Cassio: This is the monkey’s own giving out. She [Bianca] is persuaded I will marry her out of her own love and flattery, not out of my promise.