Othello - Continued. Act ii. Sc. 1. Act ii. Sc. 3. 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, Chaos is come again. 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 i ame Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. Act iii. Sc. 3. Othello - Continued. It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 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 To prey at fortune. Declined Into the vale of years. Act iii. Sc. 3. Trifles, light as, air, Act iii. Sc. 3. Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow’dst yesterday. Act iii. Sc. 3. He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, Let him not know it, and he's not robbed at all. O, now, Act iii. Sc. 3. for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue! O farewell ! 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 iji. Sc. 3. 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 Act iv. Sc. 2. And put in every honest hand a whip, To lash the rascal naked through the world. Act iv. Sc. 3. 'Tis neither here nor there. Act v. Sc. 1. He hath a daily beauty in his life. Othello - Continued. Act v. Sc. 2. I have done the state some service, and they know it. Act v. Sc. 2. Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, 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. CHAPTER Xxxviii. CHAPTER xlvi. CHAPTER lvii. * Merry swithe it is in halle, Life of Alexander. Adam Davie ? 1312. |