![]() When she gets bored with having sex, she'll need to find something to inflame her passion again-someone good-looking, closer to her age, and more like her in behavior and appearance. She wants something nice to look at, and she won't get that with the devil Othello. Do you think she still loves him now for talking? Don't think this for a second. ![]() Remember how quickly she fell in love with the Moor, all over some bragging and made-up fantastical stories. A pestilent complete knave, and the woman hath found him already. Besides, the knave is handsome, young, and hath all those requisites in him that folly and green minds look after. Why, none, why, none! A slipper and subtle knave, a finder of occasions that has an eye, can stamp and counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never present itself. Now sir, this granted-as it is a most pregnant and unforced position-who stands so eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio does? A knave very voluble, no further conscionable than in putting on the mere form of civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing of his salt and most hidden loose affection. ![]() Very nature will instruct her in it and compel her to some second choice. Now for want of these required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor. Her eye must be fed, and what delight shall she have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of sport, there should be a game to inflame it and to give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favor, sympathy in years, manners and beauties. To love him still for prating? Let not thy discreet heart think it. Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies. Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed.
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