Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
No visor does become black villainy so well as soft and tender flattery.
Women may fall when there's no strength in men.
Bassanio: Do all men kill all the things they do not love? Shylock: Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bassanio: Every offence is not a hate at first.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feelings as to sight?
You speak an infinite deal of nothing.