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.
Are you up to your destiny?
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine.
He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though, to run away.