Iago. To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer. Act ii. Sc. 3. Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the isle Act ii. Sc. 3. O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil! Act ii. Sc. 3. O that men should put an enemy in their mouths, to steal away their brains! Act iii. Sc. 3. Perdition catch my soul, But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Act iii. Sc. 3. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls. 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 ame Robs me of that which not enriches him, Act iii. Sc. 3. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; Othello-Continued. It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on. Act iii. Sc. 3. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart-strings, I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind Το prey at fortune. Into the vale of years. Declined Act iii. Sc. 3. Trifles, light as air, Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. Act iii. Sc. 3. Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world, Act iii. Sc. 3. He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Othello-Continued. Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war. Othello's occupation's gone! Act iii. Sc. 3. Give me the ocular proof. Act iii. Sc. 3. But this denoted a foregone conclusion. Act iv. Sc. 1. They laugh that win. Act iv. Sc. 2. Steeped me in poverty to the very lips. Act iv. Sc. 2. But, alas! to make me The fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow, and moving finger at. I have done the state some service, and they know it. Act v. Sc. 2. 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. Of one, whose hand, Like the base Júdean, threw a pearl away, Richer than all his tribe. Albeit unused to the melting mood. SONNETS. XXV. The painful warrior, famoused for fight, lxvi. And simple truth miscalled simplicity, THOMAS TUSSER. 1523-1580. Moral Reflections on the Wind. Except wind stands as never it stood, It is an ill wind turns none to good. Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry. CHAPTER Xii. At Christmas play, and make good cheer, Look ere thou leap, see ere thou go. * Merry swithe it is in halle, Life of Alexander. Adam Davie? 1312. |