1 Be near at hand, I may miscarry in 't.'
2 By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 's hand.'
3 Nay, good lieutenant; I pray you, sir, hold your hand.
4 Men do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands.
5 This is my ancient, this is my right hand, and this is my left.
6 No, my heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
7 You may indeed say so, For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart.'
8 The hearts of old gave hands, But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts.
9 Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow.
10 You cannot, if my heart were in your hand, Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody.'
11 Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining and the rest: Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
12 This hand of yours requires A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, Much castigation, exercise devout; For here's a young and sweating devil here That commonly rebels.
13 But yet Iago knows That she with Cassio hath the act of shame A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it, And she did gratify his amorous works With that recognizance and pledge of love Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand.
14 Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely, but too well; Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdu'd eyes, Albeit unused to the melting mood, Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees Their medicinal gum.