Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume.
Othello. Act v. Sc. 2.
So sweet was ne'er so fatal.
Othello. Act v. Sc. 2.
Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.
Othello. Act v. Sc. 2.
One entire and perfect chrysolite.