I am not merry; but I do beguile The thing I am, by seeming otherwise.
Whoe’er he be that, in this foul proceeding, Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself, And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter After your own sense; yea, though our proper son Stood in your action.
…still the house affairs would draw her thence; Which ever as she could with haste despatch, She’d come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse; which I observing, Took once a pliant hour; and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively; I did consent; And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer’d.
] Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, A housewife that, by selling her desires, Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature That dotes on Cassio,—as ’tis the strumpet’s plague To beguile many and be beguil’d by one:— He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain From the excess of laughter:—here he comes:— As he shall smile Othello shall go mad; And his unbookish jealousy must construe Poor Cassio’s smiles, gestures, and light behavior Quite in the wrong.
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Few men could remain detached while looking into her beguiling eyes.
Come, and take choice of all my library, and so beguile thy sorrow...