Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.
She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
Despair and die. The ghosts
So curses all Eve's daughters of what complexion soever.
I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him.
Have you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.