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