Egregiously an ass. Othello. Act ii. Sc. 1. I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking. Potations pottle-deep. King Stephen was a worthy peer, Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle Sc. 3. Ibid. Ibia Ibid. Iago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant ? Ibid. Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost. my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. Ibid. O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil! Ibid. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! Ibid. Cas. Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil. Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar crea ture, if it be well used. How poor are they that have not patience! Ibid. Ibid. 1 Though these lines are from an old ballad given in Percy's Reliques, they are much altered by Shakespeare, and it is his version we sing in the nursery. Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, Othello. Act üi. 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 Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy! It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock Ibid. Ibid. But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er 2 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, 2 "Fondly" in Singer and White; "soundly" in Staunton. Ibid. Ibid. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others' uses. 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 Ibid. He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, Ibid. O, 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. Ibid. Ibid. No hinge nor loop To hang a doubt on. Ibid. Ibid. On horror's head horrors accumulate. Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe. 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 A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger 2 at! Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin. O thou weed, Ibid. Sc. 2. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. 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. Ibid. 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; |