Act ii. Sc. 1.
_Iago._ To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.
_Des_. O most lame and impotent conclusion!
Act ii. Sc. 3.
Silence that dreadful bell; it frights the isle
From her propriety.
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; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs roe of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
Act iii. Sc. 3.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on.
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,
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.
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