Men should be what they seem; — Othello

"Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word."

"Thus do I ever make my fool my purse."

"Even now, now, very now, an old black ram Is tupping your white ewe."

"In following him, I follow but myself."

"Her father loved me; oft invited me; Still questiond me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have passed. I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it; Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field Of hair-breadth scapes i the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance in my travels history: Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven It was my hint to speak,--such was the process; And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline: But still the house-affairs would draw her thence: Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, Sheld come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse: which I observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels she had something heard, But not intentively: I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears, When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth sufferd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: She swore, in faith, twas strange, twas passing strange, Twas pitiful, twas wondrous pitiful: She wishd she had not heard it, yet she wishd That heaven had made her such a man: she thankd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story. And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: She loved me for the dangers I had passd, And I loved her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have used: Here comes the lady; let her witness it."

"Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them."