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.