To point his slow unmoving finger[155:2] at!

Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin.

Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2.

O thou weed,

Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet

That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst ne'er been born.

Othello. Act iv. Sc. 2.

O Heaven, that such companions thou 'ldst unfold,

And put in every honest hand a whip