Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.
More can I bear than you dare execute.
Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?
Rumor is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures.
In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated