Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, Othello. Act ni. Sc. 3. Speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Ibid. Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing; "T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands But he that filches from me my good name s; Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. Ibid. Oh, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock Ibid. But, oh, what damned minutes tells he o'er 2 Ibid. Poor and content is rich and rich enough. Ibid. To be once in doubt Is once to be resolv'd. Ibid. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune. I am declined Into the vale of years. 1 For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, Venus and Adonis. 24 'Fondly" in Singer and White; "soundly" in Staunton. Ibid. Ibid. Oh curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, Trifles light as air Are to the jealous confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3. Not poppy, nor mandragora, Ibid. Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Ibid. I swear 't is better to be much abused He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, Oh, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof. To hang a doubt on. No hinge nor loop On horror's head horrors accumulate. Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. But this denoted a foregone conclusion. Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3. Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 't is of aspics' tongues! Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Swallow them up. Our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. To beguile many, and be beguil'd by one. Ibid. Ibid. Sc. 4. Act iv. Sc. 1. Ibid. But yet the pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago! I understand a fury in your words, Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips. But, alas, to make me Ibid. Sc. 2. Ibid. A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger 2 at! Ibid. Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin. Ibid. O thou weed, Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born. Ibid. O Heaven, that such companions thou 'ldst unfold, To lash the rascals naked through the world! Ibid. 1 CERVANTES: Don Quixote, part ii. chap. i. 2 "His slow and moving finger" in Knight and Staunton. That either makes me or fordoes me quite. And smooth as monumental alabaster. Put out the light, and then put out the light: I can again thy former light restore Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, Ibid. Sc. 2. I know not where is that Promethean heat Ibid. So sweet was ne'er so fatal. Ibid. Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge I have done the state some service, and they know 't. No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then, must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well; Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees I took by the throat the circumcised dog, Othello. Act v. Sc. 2. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd. Ibid. Antony and Cleopatra. Act i. Sc. 1. On the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. This grief is crowned with consolation. Give me to drink mandragora. Where's my serpent of old Nile ? Sc. 2. Ibid. Sc. 5. Ibid. The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that Sc. 2. The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, Ibid. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Ibid. I have not kept my square; but that to come Sc. 3. |