Act iii. Sc. 3.
Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs roe of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
Act iii. Sc. 3.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth make
The meat it feeds on.
Act iii. Sc. 3.
Trifles, light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.
Act iii. Sc. 3.
Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Act iii. Sc. 3.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robbed at all.