Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.
An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
O hell! to choose love with another's eye.
Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.