Oh! That You Could Turn Your Eyes

He's All My Exercise, My Mirth, My Matter.

I Am One, Sir, That Comes To Tell You Your Daughter And The Moor Are Now Making The Beast With Two Backs.(iago,acti,scenei)

Rumour Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures And Of So Easy And So Plain A Stop That The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads, The Still-discordant Wavering Multitude, Can Play Upon It.

This Look Of Thine Will Hurl My Soul From Heaven.

My Love's More Richer Than My Tongue.